


The Elite Club Of People Who've Seen Gerard Way Naked.

by penceyprat



Category: Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: A Goddess on the cheer squad with many opinions regarding authority and nudism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angsty Frank Iero, Asexual Mikey Way, F/F, F/M, Frank gets jealous, Frank is victim to many short jokes, Frank wants to have sex with Gerard but he is awkward as fuck, Gerard has a lot of sex, He's still awkward and nerdy as fuck though, Jamia has a massive crush on her mostly straight best friend Lindsey, Lindsey Is A Goddess, M/M, Mikey is basically cool as fuck, New Town AU, Pete Wentz MySpace Whore, Sex, Sex is mentioned a lot, Slut Gerard Way, There was this one time Lindsey punched Brendon Urie in the balls and it was cool as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penceyprat/pseuds/penceyprat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a hopelessly short, hopelessly desperate, and just generally hopeless highschooler, whose only friend is the amazingly tall kid with the 'fro: Ray Toro. School is mundane, school is just, well, school: Lindsey Ballato is a goddess, Pete Wentz is emo, and Brendon Urie totally deserved getting kicked in the balls last summer, but then Mikey fucking Way turns up and before Frank knows it he's over at the Way household and swooning over an unfairly hot older brother who has totally just made out with an overly casual Lindsey Ballato.</p>
<p>And that's not even to mention Gerard's past and sort of ex-boyfriend Bert McCracken who he kind of did, kind of didn't leave in the old town he and Mikey just moved from. Gerard is older and world's away from Frank's league: he's like Lindsey Ballato - unobtainable and godly, and most definitely a member of the elite sex club that Frank reckons Lindsey's involved in.</p>
<p>And this elite club of people who've seen Gerard Way naked? Let's say, Frank Iero wants in... to Gerard's pants. However Mikey thinks that it's less of a club and more of a support group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When The Book Title Is So Long That It Needs Punctuation At The End Of It

Frank mum meant well, she was over enthusiastic and she was trying way too hard, but still, she meant well, and really, it wasn't as if she'd bullied him into this, she'd only signed Frank up to the football team without his permission, after all.

Football was just not Frank's kind of thing: he saw no point in kicking a ball around a pitch for an hour and half whilst being criticised by just about everyone for being unbelievably shit at it. Sure, Frank liked balls, except he really preferred the kind of balls that came with a dick attached to them, and not the kind that you kicked around a football pitch: touching balls, rather than kicking them, that was more Frank's style - hey, maybe his mum should have signed him up for the basketball team instead.

Of course, Frank was about three foot tall, and even his mum knew that basketball was a lost hope for him.

Really, Mrs Iero just wanted something that looked good on Frank's college application form: something to brag about to Jenny at work whose son was some sort of world renowned super athlete or something, with at least four hundred and twenty Olympic gold medals, and all still at sixteen years of age.

Frank was nothing in comparison, of course, but he had a hell of a lot more to him than being someone's trophy son, and he knew that for sure, because even if he was absolute dogshit at football, he was pretty kickass at guitar, and an absolutely astounding homosexual.

Homosexuality being one of Frank's very few talents, of course.

But then again, Frank knew that the majority of the other guys here were either here for the same reason as Frank, or for the excuse to talk to Lindsey Ballato.

Lindsey Ballato being the head cheerleader, but a fucking kickass one at that, and let's not even mention how goddamn hot she was: Frank maybe gay, but he most certainly was not blind, and Lindsey Ballato was a whole new kind of attractive altogether: it was backbends and red lipstick and short skirts and that way she'd kicked Brendon Urie in the balls last summer.

Lindsey was the kind of girl you were stupid not to be scared of: she was a million miles out of everybody's league, and she was that one girl that all the other girls seemed to worship as some sort of goddess (either via compliments or jealousy) due to the fact that she just about looked like a goddess, and well, she slept with a damn lot of people, but it was somehow sophiscated and worthy of envy.

Lindsey Ballato wasn't a quick five minute 'it'll be horrible anyway so it's best just to get it out of the way' ordeal with some guy she barely knew, and she most certainly wasn't bending over for everyone in the whole school: it was like she was millions of miles above everyone else entirely: elite, it was like Lindsey Ballato's sexlife was the kind of thing that involved an elite club and champagne and enough acid to neutralise Ryan Ross' bathtub.

And Frank, just like everyone else was in awe of her, but of course, Lindsey Ballato was hardly the pivotal point of Frank Iero's existence (although the same couldn't be said for many other guys on that football team). Frank's existence seemed to hold little substance - it was just day in and day out: he was average and far more complacent than he ever would have expected.

Frank had a best friend, and a dog, and a guitar, and there was little else he could possibly fathom having, besides a boyfriend, of course, but Frank's lovelife was worse than Pete Wentz's, and Pete Wentz was the kind of guy who'd put you in his MySpace top eight if you let him fuck you.

Pete Wentz a 'successful' MySpace whore with a spectacularly emo fringe and raccoon eyes: he was pathetic and desperate, and an avid user of the high angled scene kid selfie style, and still, Pete Wentz got laid more often than Frank Iero did.

Frank had loads going for him, or at least that was what he was sure to convince himself of: he was 'cute', he was 'funny', he was 'musical', and well... if he actually managed to find another gay guy, chances were that he would be the only other gay dude they knew, so really, Frank had that going for him at the very least.

Pete was bi, though, and should absolutely no interest in Frank or his humour and guitar skills and dogs, (like seriously, Frank had more dogs than he had friends) which was disheartening, but Frank doubted that Pete Wentz was really the kind of person he wanted to date.

Anyway, Frank didn't have a MySpace so he doubted he was even eligible to be Pete Wentz's boyfriend.

"You survived without getting stomped on or squashed then?" 

Six feet tall.

Ray Toro was six feet tall, and Frank Iero was about six inches tall - fucking hell, Ray Toro's dick was probably bigger than Frank was, not that Frank had ever spent enough time with it to actual gather serious and accurate measurements.

"Alright, alright, bigfoot, shut the fuck up." Frank rolled his eyes in his best friend's direction: the two making their way to biology together, which was not a lesson that Frank was looking forward to, to say the least, and especially not after having wasted away the entirety of his lunchtime standing awkwardly in the corner of a football pitch, and just to make his mum happy.

"Bigfoot?" Ray snorted at that one. "Go pick on someone your own size, huh?"

"What? Like a three year old child?" 

Frank was well aware of just how ridiculously short he was, and just how much worse it was when he stood next to Ray, and really, he wished he just could have been more height conscious at the start of Freshman year when he was choosing the asshole he'd be stuck with for the next four years of hell, but hey, Ray had been at least six inches shorter three years ago, whereas Frank hadn't seemed to have grown in the slightest, which left him rather worried regarding the possibility of him just staying this short forever, because he was really not up for that.

"Alright, Frodo, come on, play nice." And Ray was fucking immensely proud of himself for that one.

"Do not bring the Lord Of The Rings into this." Frank demanded, his eyes widening in anger, making it overly obvious as to why 'bigfoot' was his only friend in the whole school.

"Hobbits are normally nice." Ray grovelled as they reached their biology classroom.

"Shut it, Gandalf." Frank made his way inside, groaning as he came to remember that he'd been given the absolute honour of sitting next to Pete Wentz and his spectacularly emo fringe in biology from now on. He used to sit with Ray, but there'd been a certain incident with a frog and some asshole's lunchbox that Miss Whelan hadn't taken all that kindly to.

"How's it going, shorty?" Height jokes were a first world problem that Frank Iero faced on a daily basis, but Pete didn't know that whenever Frank was sad he looked through Pete's profile pictures because they were so ridiculously emo that you physically could not be sad when you remembered that they existed.

"At least I can actually see from behind my fringe." Frank grumbled, shoving one headphone in as he turned away and attempted to just get away with staring out of the window for the duration of this lesson, but of course, God hated him far too much to just let that happen.

"You've not seen the new kid, have you?" And even worse, Pete Wentz was actually attempting to make conversation with him, dear lord.

"No..." Frank shook his head, and gave in, turning back to Pete, leaving him to continue in his great anecdote of how he most likely going to get this person to let him suck them off.

"Yeah, you were in the staring at Lindsey- uhh... I mean football team... all lunch, weren't you? You're not sporty, Iero, it's just obvious why you're there."

"Well, I'm not straight either, so you've got that wrong." Frank knew that coming out to people at school wasn't exactly the best of ideas, but there was no greater joy in this world than telling Pete Wentz that he was wrong.

"And the plot thickens..." Pete snorted, his eyes widening as soon as he realised that Frank was actually serious. "Okay, but we can't date, because you're not emo enough for me, like you wear black, but your eyeliner game is poor, and your hair is kind of short, and you don't have a MySpace, so I'm sorry Frank, but you're just a poser, and I don't date posers."

"Yeah, I don't want to date you." Frank groaned, knowing he'd regret letting this slip, because within seconds the whole damn school would know, but then, 'the new kid' walked into the room: at least ten minuets late by now, but he did an excellent job of drawing the attention away from Frank.

He was kind of tall, but not as tall as Ray, with lanky arms and legs that looked far too thin to seriously support his weight, dressed in black skinny jeans and a leather jacket that went against uniform code that made him far much cooler than Frank would ever be already. His hair was a light brown, but most of it was covered by the big grey beanie that sat a top his head.

"I don't want to date you either, but holy fuck, I want to date him." And yeah, Frank had called it, grinning a little as Pete gestured in the direction of leather jacket guy who was already a million miles cooler than Frank, despite the fact that he'd only just walked into the room.

"He's definitely out of your league." Perhaps it was kind of harsh, but Pete Wentz's profile picture made him look like a small emo turd in comparison to leather jacket guy, who fucking scowled as he made his way into the room, finally getting the attention of the teacher, who'd been engrossed in her laptop for the last ten minutes, because yes, quality teaching.

"Yes, I know, that's why I have to pounce before he realises that." Pete’s dating strategies were questionable, to say the least.

"Late, aren't we? You're Mikey, aren't you?" Miss Whelan glanced leather jacket guy up and down, scowling a little as she did. "You're going to have to take your jacket off - it goes against uniform regulations."

All eyes were upon leather jacket guy- Mikey... right now: this was initiation, just how he responded to her request would determine his reputation for the rest of his time here, and from the smirk on his lips, he knew it.

Mikey took his jacket off, alright, he took his jacket off to reveal a black shirt with the words 'fuck you' printed on the front in bold white lettering, and well, Miss Whelan looked like she'd had a mini heart attack in response.

"You want me to take this off too?" He asked, his tone surprisingly calm, and holy fuck, this guy had to have planned this, because the teacher was shocked into silence and people were fucking clapping.

"Just go sit down. There's an empty chair there, Mikey." Miss Whelan finally regained her composure, gesturing towards the empty desk in front of Pete and Frank's, and Pete was dying and Frank was close to punching himself in the face right now.

"Oh fuck, I'm screwed, this is the kind of guy that's going to be Lindsey's next boyfriend, not mine, not in a million years."

And yeah, Pete was kind of right: Mikey looked like he really did belong in Lindsey Ballato's elite sexclub with champagne and drugs and shirts that said 'fuck you' on them.

But, by some miracle, Mikey sat down and turned around to face the two of them, grinning a little as the teacher yelled something about continuing with last lesson's work before she went into the stock room to have an emotional breakdown.

"How would you rate that out of ten?" He asked, actually talking to the two of them, and Pete seriously looked like he was about to fall off his chair, which was amusing, if anything.

"That was fucking brilliant." Frank spoke his mind, because hell, Miss Whelan was probably rocking back and forth in the corner of the stock room right now and it took a hell of a lot to accomplish that. "You planned that, didn't you?"

"Ah, my secret!" Mikey grinned, his eyes widening in mock horror, before glancing at Pete who had appeared to have just frozen in place with his mouth wide open. "So, I'm Mikey... and... you are?"

"I'm Frank, and that's Pete, and I think you may have killed him." Frank gave Pete a little prod, causing him to jump and blush like hell as he remembered that Mikey was real and actually talking to him.

"Holy fuck that was amazing, you are amazing, you're like royalty, can I bow to you, I-"

"Please don't." Mikey interrupted him, blushing a little, and turning to Frank a little more. "That's my work for this year done: people have their impression and now I can fuck off and get high all year in the background. This wasn't even my idea, it was my brother's: he's great with ideas, you know?"

"What? No, in the scenario in my head you start dating Lindsey Ballato and you're her boyfriend cool, cooler than us all and she does a backbend to suck your dick and you punch guys like me and I will sit in the back of biology wondering whether I want to be you or do you- you're not just allowed to fuck off and get high." Pete came on a little strong, well, to say the least.

"I don't want to date Lindsey, or you for that matter. I don't want to date, I don't want to make friends, that's not how I work... this... this is just an assessment of my perform - Frank gave me his opinion, and that's fine, I've done, my work is fucking done, and if that teacher’s not going to come back then I'm just going to leave now." And with that, Mikey Way grabbed his leather jacket, putting it back on and making his way out of the classroom, and leaving Pete Wentz to slam his face against the desk, and Frank to cringe across the room in Ray's direction.

"My whole life is ruined." Pete grumbled, the table muffling his words. "I knew it would never work but he's not even going to date Lindsey so I don't even have the image of them fucking to jerk off to this is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

"I reckon you might want to re-evaluate your priorities." Frank suggested, knowing that Pete wouldn't listen, but fuck, it whatever, he'd tried.

"Yeah, alright, Bilbo." Pete was, of course, utterly unconvinced.

"It's Frodo, actually."

"Whatever." 

-

Gerard Way was supposed to be doing something, but the something was just something he couldn't quite recall.

In fact, maybe he was supposed to be doing someone, but still, with his knees pulled up to his chest as he sat on his mum's kitchen floor, he couldn't recall it for the life of him.

He was alone and very, very naked: his mum being at work and Mikey being at his new school today, and Gerard just wished he could have woken up earlier to actually wish Mikey good luck before he went, because he very well could have been slaughtered, and that very easily could have been the last that Gerard Way would have ever seen of his brother.

But instead, he sat naked and absent minded on his kitchen floor, pushing another strand of dyed black hair behind his ears as he wondered just how long it would be before he'd probably have to put some clothes on, sure he loved Mikey, but not in the way that would involve seeing him naked.

Gerard was weird, but nowhere near that weird.

His head was a mess and this new town fucking sucked, but at least he didn't have to go to school like Mikey: he was supposed to go to college or something but it became evident that that really hadn't happened, so now he was just waiting to be lumped into some shitty internship at his mum's work or something.

All his friends, all of his fuckbuddies were in the next town over and that fucking sucked, because Gerard was naked as it was, and no one would be home for a good few hours now.

Surely, he could just jack off but that was never as good, and he fucking needed someone to talk to right now, but the nakedness was really a huge problem right now.

And it was a problem that was only exaggerated as the fucking doorbell rang, and if Gerard knew anything with his at best C grade exam results, he knew that he really should not answer the door naked.

He went for a hoodie on the sofa that was probably long enough to make it look like he at least had underpants on underneath, and a blanket wrapped around him like a burrito, before making his way to the door: he could just play the ill card, and the person at the door would soon fuck off and it would all be okay, he promised himself.

"Uhh... hey... sorry to like... bother you but my friend kinda threw her school bag over your fence into your garden..." Gerard was faced with a teenager who looked like she should most definitely be in school right now, but fuck it, Gerard didn't care, he just wanted to get back to sitting naked on his floor.

"Yeah, whatever, the garden gate's like open, just go fucking get it, whatever." Gerard slurred his words a little as he spoke: exhaustion as opposed to intoxication, but regardless, it didn't exactly make the best of impressions.

"You're naked under that blanket, aren't you?" Teenager one's friend appeared from apparently nowhere, smirking as she looked Gerard up and down, which made him feel just a little uncomfortable, to say the least. "Not much of a talker? Okay, I'll just go get my bag-"

"Why did you throw it over my fence?" Gerard suddenly found himself asking, although he knew the right thing to do here was to just close the front door and hope that they fucked off as soon as humanely possible.

"I meant to throw it, but just not over your fence... like a fuck you to school, and the biology lesson I'm supposed to be in right now." She explained, with an enthusiasm that seemed to please Gerard. "I'm Lindsey, by the way, and this is Jamia, and I really would love to have a conversation with you about fucking with authority and the like, but, you're naked, and if my mum told me anything it was don't go into the homes of naked men that you don't know."

"Yeah, because that applied the other-" Jamia interrupted with a raise of her eyebrows.

"That was different: that was a nudist party - the whole point of it was being naked, to like, make a statement."

"And to show your tits off?" Jamia added for Lindsey, because well, if it wasn't true then Lindsey had something wrong with her.

"Maybe- hey, naked dude, are you a nudist?" Lindsey turned back to Gerard with the least discreet 'I wouldn't mind seeing you naked' grin at all.

"I'm Gerard, not 'naked dude', but not particularly, but I see nothing wrong with self expression and art, and the human anatomy is a form of art so-"

"Well, you're either a nudist or a pervert, so I'm glad you went for the former, because you're kind of cute, huh? Jamia, don't you think he's kind of cute?" She turned to her friend with a grin.

"I'm far too gay to pass any judgement, you know that, Lindsey." Jamia rolled her eyes, wishing that she could pretend that Lindsey wasn't totally stalling to flirt with this fucking random ass naked guy, who could be a fucking serial killer for all they knew. "Anyway, can you just get your bag and we'll leave?"

"Hey, Gerard, was it? Look, I'll give you my number and we can discuss being naked together at a future date, how about that?" Lindsey was forward in the same way Pete Wentz was, but Lindsey was so ridiculously hot that her tactics seemed to actually work.

"You're a teenager." Gerard pointed out, a little awkwardly, but he actually managed to speak, so he deserved some credit for that, at the very least. "I'm nineteen, nearly twenty."

"I'm seventeen, that's two years, I'm not a fucking preteen, anyway, whatever you say, you're new here, aren't you? Just saying that I have a lot of connections, okay, you don't need to fuck me, but I'm just telling you that when I offer my friendship, it's something you want to accept." And with that, Lindsey grabbed Gerard's arm and scribbled her number across it, before leaving to retrieve her bag.

"Sorry about her- she's over confident and ridiculously attractive, but she means well, I promise, she's a great friend, and she's definitely a little stoned right now." Jamia added with an apologetic smile in Gerard's direction.

"Yeah, she's pretty cute, I guess, I mean, I'm not the 'relationship' type, but she offers interesting beliefs regarding authority and rebellion-"

"Yeah, Lindsey's not the relationship type either." And with that, Jamia turned away to return to Lindsey, leaving Gerard to close the door behind him and reassess his life right now.

Because fuck, Gerard missed his hometown and his boyfriend as much as he missed the heated floor in his old house which allowed him to sit naked on the kitchen floor without getting a cold butt.

-


	2. Frank Iero Is Not A Pregnancy Test

Gerard had met him four years ago, when Gerard was fifteen, and he was just a little older. It was everything that drugged up teenage Gerard Way could have dreamed of, and perhaps even just a little more, but by no means was it ever anything special, yet still it was just enough to preoccupy his mind no less than four years later in a completely new town.

Because they'd broken up: it had ended at least twenty times by now, but despite that, despite every spited, meaningful insult, nothing could ever quite really be physical enough to actually keep Gerard from thinking about him.

He wasn't even that beautiful, he wasn't even that special, in fact there was absolutely nothing special about Gerard’s kind of boyfriend back in their old town. In fact, the guy was kind of messy, unkempt and intoxicated at the best of times, but four years ago, much the same could be said for Gerard, but now, he'd like to say that things had changed a little.

He'd lost the awkward stubble at the very least, and the zombie look in sleepless eyes, and the plethora of dark red bruises left around his collarbones: sometimes hickeys, sometimes not. But the same could be said for him.

Him.

It almost felt ominous, like Gerard's boyfriend was some sort of great overshadowing figure to be feared and not a twenty year old stoner named Bert McCracken, who was barely making it through college in the next town over.

He wasn't anything special, and they both knew it, but still, Gerard was 'obsessed', Gerard cared and Gerard fretted over ever little aspect of their 'relationship', because it was always there, at least to some extent, and distance hadn't proved to break that, at least not yet anyway.

Gerard had sent Bert some sort of awkward good morning text about an hour ago, despite the knowledge that Bert absolutely never got up before eleven, even when college was involved, because hey, the guy just didn't care, and Gerard couldn't help but admit that he liked that about him.

It was always so casual, so easy, and most of the time the two were both far too intoxicated to even notice the world around them, and Gerard really did like that, but this was withdrawal, because Bert was a drug of sorts, and not just a supplier, and hey finding where to get drugs in this town was proving to be an awfully big pain in the ass.

Bert just didn't really care: he and Gerard talked everything through, and Bert just gave a drunken nod in response, no matter whether it was 'do you want anything from Starbucks?' or 'can I fuck this hot guy I met at a party last night?'. Bert didn't much see the point in the traditional aspects of 'relationships' or the traditional aspects of anything whatsoever: everything was a bit unorthodox with him and for the rebellion hungry teenager, it had been exactly what he'd needed.

They'd met at a party.

Fifteen year old Gerard Way didn't tend to frequent parties, but Jeph had talked him into it: something about being his best friend and that girl in their English class that had asked Gerard on a date last week, and Jeph had felt personally offended when Gerard declined.

Gerard didn't tend to get invited on dates, and especially not by pretty girls who liked the shitty ass poetry the teacher made him read out in class, but maybe Gerard didn't want to go on dates with pretty girls who liked poetry and always arrived to class on time.

It wasn't the girls thing, though.

Gerard wasn't gay. Hell, Gerard hadn't had the slightest reminiscent of a clue as to what he was at the ripe old age of fifteen, needless to say, Bert had helped a little; it wasn't Bert directly, though, and more of the places Bert had taken him to, the people Bert had introduced him to, and the kind of orgies that a sixteen year old kid should never have been involved in.

But now, age nineteen, Gerard could just about, somewhat confidently, say that he was pansexual, and horribly attracted to Bert McCracken, despite the distance, and the way he stunk all the time, and that stupid kind of beard, kind of stubble, and the grease in his hair, and the way he couldn't even remember what the guy was like sober, but Gerard still liked him. Gerard wasn't sure why, but he owed him an awful lot, that was for sure.

The party they'd met at was exactly the kind of thing that Gerard had grown to hate: the kind of thing in those teen movies with the red cups and assholes around every corner, but entirely far more drugs, and definitely a couple of prostitutes in there somewhere.

Jeph knew that Gerard didn't want to be there at all, and Gerard knew that Jeph only wanted him there so he could provide him with moral support when the girls he asked to make out with him inevitably rejected him, but Jeph wasn't quite as cruel enough as to just leave poor fifteen year old Gerard Way stood awkwardly by the drinks table, drinking the night away until he inevitably rotted away of alcohol poisoning: fifteen year old Gerard Way was somewhat of a lightweight, to say the least.

So, Jeph had introduced him to a friend, and that was exactly how Gerard had come to spend his first night with Bert McCracken.

Bert was the opposite of shy, and drunk, but not drunk: Bert had never been a lightweight and was pretty much in control of what he was doing, except just a little more irrational than he should have been, and that was exactly what Gerard needed that night, because Jeph had gotten unfortunately lucky and Gerard didn't see him again until maths class on Monday morning.

It was alright though, because Bert was alright, and an absolute expert at making Gerard blush, and well, let's just say that Jeph wasn't the only one that got lucky that weekend.

Gerard didn't talk to Jeph anymore: something about getting sober last year that neither Bert nor Gerard had particularly agreed with at the time, and then some fight that Gerard could even remember. Eighteen year old Gerard could only remember the nosebleed and the blood on his boyfriend's face as the front door slammed behind Jeph and he grew the courage to make his way back downstairs.

Bert had told him that it was alright, but Gerard wasn't convinced, and he'd insisted that they went to the hospital, Bert got angry: angry, and come ten minutes later, Gerard's face kind of looked like Bert's. 

Eighteen year old Gerard Way ran home and didn't speak to nineteen year old Bert McCracken for a good two weeks, but it was inevitable: they'd met again at the park - Gerard had gone out for a cigarette and some time to think: his dad had just left his mum, and well things weren't exactly 'easy' at home, and as Bert sat down on the bench beside him with biggest smile and the most believable apology that he'd seen all week, Gerard had taken him back within seconds.

And that was just how it had always been, and they were both more than okay with, despite its obvious flaws: at least for the most part anyway.

Nineteen year old Gerard Way glanced at his cellphone as it vibrated against the kitchen countertop: a stupid place to leave it when he was making coffee within centimetres of it, and well, Gerard wasn't exactly the most coordinated of people in the morning, but somehow this time, God had taken enough pity upon him to ensure that his cellphone remained unscathed.

He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening a little as he saw that Bert had actually texted him back: the two hadn't spoke in a week, because well, Bert wasn't exactly thrilled to hear the news that his on and off boyfriend of just about four years was moving away from him, but it became apparent that they'd gotten to the apology stage now.

The message was so typically Bert that Gerard reckoned he could have identified it even without the contact name displayed above it: 'morning beautiful. how's the shithole? you're missing me, I know you are. tell me if the prostitutes are as good as they are at home'.

And really, Gerard just couldn't help but smile, giving his coffee a stir, before abandoning it to text his almost boyfriend back.

'It's almost afternoon, asshole. It's kinda shit and yeah I miss you. Unfortunately I haven't had any encounters with prostitutes yet.' 

And Gerard opted for a couple of kisses on the end of his message: it was just flirting, but it was far too mundane for Bert, who much preferred to call hand jobs under the table at family dinners flirting, as opposed to a couple of 'x's at the end of a text message, but, it'd do.

'I knew you would hate it - see I was right when I told you not to go. I miss you lots though.'

Bert even returned Gerard's gesture with a couple more kisses and some weird emoji that Bert had definitely deemed sexual before sending.

'Yeah I guess so.'

Gerard wasn't quite sure what to make of this town yet; he'd hardly been here for any time at all, but in comparison to his hometown and Bert's apartment, it looked like hell itself.

'I have college in ten minutes so I'll call you when I get back and we'll talk properly. I love you sweetheart.'

And with the heart emoji that Bert McCracken most definitely didn't give out like it was nothing, Gerard was head over heels once again, and he even smiled at prospect of living out the rest of the day: what could he say - Bert McCracken did strange fucking things to him.

-

Frank Iero was growing increasingly tired with his life and the monotonous beat of existence: he was over school and the daily routine and being nobody: he wasn’t hated, he wasn't a target of bullies, he wasn't anything, he wasn't noticed at all - he was just that short kid who was friends with the guy with the afro.

That was exactly all that Frank Iero was, and exactly all he'd ever be.

And now, this sounds like a perfect opportunity to run in with an 'Until...' and reel off some cheesy unbelievable statement about his whole neighbourhood blowing up or something, and really, it was awfully close to going just like that, but for some reason, it didn't, and it wasn't going to be as easy as that.

Frank Iero texted his friend Ray Toro about skipping school entirely, and Ray, being Ray told him 'no, absolutely not', and Frank being Frank found himself innately inclined to go against every word he said, but his mum was yelling at him to get dressed from downstairs, and with a great deal of reluctance, he pulled his clothes on and made his way downstairs, grabbing some form of breakfast on his way out the front door, and met Ray Toro in person at the street corner no less than three minutes later.

This was much the same everyday, and honestly, Frank didn't even know what he wanted from life, but the one thing that he knew for certain was that he didn't want this.

"You're not going to skip school today." Ray told him in person this time, perhaps just to enforce the message, and Frank only shrugged it off, saying very little in return and leaving Ray to continue the conversation for the sake of saving them the awkwardness. "I met this girl last week, I think you'd like to meet her-"

And just like that, Frank had given up on his sanity completely, just looking his best friend in the eye and telling him the most truthful thing he'd said in the last five years. "I'm gay."

Ray was a little taken a back, and well, Frank was quite honestly surprised that Pete hadn't told everyone by this point, but perhaps Mikey Way's existence had simply sent him into cardiac arrest and he'd died before he could tell anyone.

Frank laughed at the notion of Pete dying: it seemed ridiculous - Pete was the kind of guy that when faced with death would probably just look him in the eye and say "no", or something ridiculously Pete like "bagsy not me, try the guy next door who stole my bike ten years ago", and with Pete's ridiculous luck, it would probably work.

Because if Pete Wentz could get people to willingly have sex with him, he most likely possessed the power to be immortal.

"O...Okay..." Ray's response was a little delayed, but Frank was far too amused with the mental image of Pete straight out refusing to die, that he couldn't even care. "That's okay with me."

"Good, okay, just wanted to get that off my chest." Frank gave a little shrug of his shoulders as he quickened his pace and continued walking to school. 

-

Lindsey couldn't figure out for the life of her as to why on earth Frank Iero had joined the football team.

She was only vaguely aware of his existence, and up until all of ten minutes ago, he'd been nothing more than that short kid stood in the corner looking like he'd rather kill himself than be here, but when she'd pointed him out to Jamia, she'd learned that he was in fact Frank Iero, and that he was in fact in her English class - not that she'd ever actually noticed him before, but then again, Lindsey didn't tend to pay all that much attention in school.

"Why is he here if he looks like he hates it so much?" Lindsey whispered to Jamia: her eyes remaining almost fixated upon poor Frank, stood in the corner of the football pitch, shivering in a football kit that was far too big for him.

"Oh come on, Lindsey." Jamia just rolled her eyes at her best friend; the two of them were sat on the edge of bleachers, shivering a little and just trying to show even a vague interest in the football game before them.

Honestly, the cheer squad did barely anything for the amount of credit they got for it: it was some sort of formation with pom-poms and some sort of chant that some fuckwit on the football team had come up with every time anyone scored a goal, and considering the actual intelligence of the fuckwits on the football team, that most certainly did not happen often, and well, Lindsey and Jamia had been sat here in vague conversation for the past fifteen minutes.

"What?" Lindsey's eyes widened in response to the rather vague opinion Jamia had expressed a few moments earlier.

"Everyone knows that the majority of the guys here are here for you." And not only did Jamia know this fact like she knew anything, she fucking hated it more than she could ever fathom, but of course, with the way she felt towards Lindsey, she couldn't exactly blame them either.

Lindsey was fucking hot - there was no question about that, whatsoever.

"Well... that's debatable, but, I've been staring at the kid for like the past five minutes now, and not once has he ever made eye contact with me: he's here for another reason, but fuck me if I know." And really, Jamia would very much love to provide Lindsey with the knowledge necessary to take her up upon that offer.

But Lindsey was unfortunately straight, and Jamia was just unfortunately in love with her, and Frank, the kid shivering on the corner of the football pitch - he was just unfortunate.

"The game's going to end in a few minutes - how about you just ask him?" Jamia suggested, just praying that this one conversation wouldn't end up with Lindsey dating him, because well, with Lindsey's history, that wasn't exactly to be unexpected, but fucking hell, Jamia reckoned she'd rather shove a croquet mallet up her ass than deal with another of Lindsey's fuckboy boyfriends.

But at the very least, they didn't seem to last long anyway... Lindsey usually dumped them before Jamia was brought to the point of manslaughter, anyway.

"I'll just call him over now - no one's going to miss him there, and from the looks of it, I think I'll be doing him a favour." Lindsey's face ignited with a grin that Jamia had just learned to fear, because this was another one of her ideas, and well, it was only Monday, and Jamia was not ready for this shit: not at all. 

"Hey, Frank!" She raised her voice, causing the kid to turn around, and practically die on the spot as he came to realise that Lindsey Ballato was calling him over. Frank glanced back at the football pitch, before shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that vaguely translated as 'fuck it', and made his way over to Lindsey and Jamia.

"Uhh... hi." This was the first conversation Frank'd had with Lindsey throughout the entire duration of his life, and well, to say the least, he was more than a little confused as to why there had even been a first.

"Why are you here?" Lindsey asked rather bluntly, moving up and gesturing for Frank to sit between her and Jamia. Frank felt just a little obliged to do as she said, because well, it was Lindsey, and he still had absolutely no fucking idea as to why he was talking to her, let alone what he was supposed to answer her question with.

"I-I-I... I-" 

Jamia let out a deep sigh, interrupting Frank before he could embarrass himself further. "She wants to know what the hell you're doing on the football team when you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

"Exactly!" Lindsey chimed in, over exaggerating her words as she spoke. "You can't fucking play, and you're not here to stare at me, because I've been staring at you for the past five minutes and not once did you notice me, so- there's no explanation- I... you have to be a masochist!"

"Uhh... I don't know what that is." Frank uttered out in perhaps the most awkward manner anyone had ever spoke in before.

"Basically you get off on making yourself suffer- it's like... getting punched in the face and having a wank over it- well that's kind of extreme, but like... you're on this football team because-"

"My mum made me do it." Frank finished for her: his cheeks a horrible shade of red in response to Lindsey Ballato's overly casual approach to the discussion of masturbation, because, sure he was gay, but this was still Lindsey fucking Ballato, and Frank still wasn't sure if this was some fucked up dream where he'd end up getting punched in the face by Lindsey and being forced to get off on it... and all with Jamia just sat there.

"Yeah, that explains it." Lindsey let out a sigh, rolling her eyes a little. "I'm kind of disappointed actually, I've never met a masochist before, and I think it would be rather interesting- are you sure-"

"I'm positive."

"Yeah, shut up, you're not a pregnancy test, Frank." Lindsey grinned, before her face fell, her eyes widening a little. "I did take that pregnancy test at yours the other day, didn't I, Jamia? Because I was fucking stoned and I'm-"

"You did... you're not pregnant, Lindsey: if you were, don't you think I would have brought it up by now?" Jamia grimaced a little at the notion of Lindsey being pregnant, because maybe she could tolerate the fuckboy boyfriends for short periods of time, but fuckboy spawn? No fucking chance, and she doubted that Lindsey would still be her best friend if Jamia murdered her child.

"Uhh..." Frank's cheeks flushed red with the information that he probably wasn't supposed to know. "Can I go now?"

"No." Lindsey answered him outright and without a moment's thought.

"Why not?"

"Because if you feel like you have to ask for permission, you're going to listen to me if I say no." Jamia rolled her eyes at Lindsey, because this fucking psychology bullshit again, and still, somehow, despite all the shit Lindsey put her through, Jamia was still furiously attracted to her. "I feel like this conversation didn't really achieve much: I now know that your mum's a pushy mum, but- hey... hey, Jamia? Hey...." Lindsey smirked that smirk that signified the formation of an idea in her mind, and Jamia was already scared.

"What?"

"That party. He can be your date-" And needless to say, that was an idea that both Frank and Jamia protested to.

"Uhh... I'd rather not." Frank blushed, but kept true to himself, because no hetero, man, no fucking hetero.

"What happened to the asking me for permission to leave attitude?" Lindsey pouted in a way that left Frank unable to determine whether she was being serious or not. "Anyway, why not?"

"I'm gay." This was the third person he'd told this week: seriously, Frank Iero was on a fucking homosexuality roll here.

"Okay, do you have a boyfriend then, because there's a guy I owe a favour to, and-"

"You can't prostitute him in return for favours." Jamia piped up, after recovering from the presence of another homosexual, because, fuck, she really wished she could just say it like that: just come out to Lindsey like it was nothing and never be forced to endure the hells of heteronormativity again, but of course, it was never that easy.

"You can hook me up with a guy?" Frank was almost reluctant to believe it, and was only now beginning to understand just how much of a freaking goddess Lindsey was.

"Several, in fact- not at the same time, unless, well- I know people, I know gay people, and Frank, you have been added to my web of homosexual connections, of which I am the matchmaking spider." And it was metaphors like this that proved just how little attention Lindsey paid in English classes.

"I don't like spiders." Frank found his excellent social skills acting before his sanity, once again.

"Don't be rude." Lindsey rolled her eyes, pulling her cellphone out of her pocket to check the time. "Look, give me your number and I'll see what I can do."

"I-I..." Giving girls his number was not a situation Frank Iero had ever expected to be in, and he found himself utterly dumbstruck as Lindsey continued to stare at him like he was some sort of attraction in a freak show.

"I'm not psychic, you're gonna have to type it in yourself." Lindsey passed Frank her cellphone, and still, he was practically frozen on the spot.

"Come on, do you want to get laid or not? I haven't got all day." And with that, Lindsey stood up, making her way towards the changing rooms to get ready for her next lesson, leaving Jamia to watch as Frank painstakingly typed his number in and gave the phone to Jamia.

"Sorry... she's a bit... well... you know..." Jamia let out a sigh, and another as she came to realise just how often she found herself apologising for Lindsey's existence.

"It's fine, I'm not used to girls actually talking to me... and well... I'm not good at doing straight things like giving girls my numbers... I guess."

"Don't worry, I'm not good at straight things either." And with a wink, and Lindsey's phone in her hands, Jamia left too, but she had to take a quick detour to have a homosexual breakdown in the toilets before she could actually bring herself to face Lindsey again.

And well, Frank, Frank sat there smirking like hell, because this was the kind of anecdote that would give Pete Wentz a freaking heart attack when he told him, and there was nothing more than Frank loved in this world than causing Pete Wentz extreme emotional pain.

-


	3. Pete Wentz's 'Cool Idols'

"It's not Pete anymore, just P. Wentz." Pete, or 'P. Wentz', not that anyone would ever call him that announced in a somewhat offended response to Frank's incredibly selfish use of his real name and not the stupid fucking nickname he'd given himself.

Seriously, Frank was just surprised, and actually somewhat relieved that Pete hadn't gone full scene kid and gone for something like Pete Princess, or Pete Paranoia, Pete Please Fucking Stop You Piece Of Shit- perhaps not the last the one.

"Why?" Ray dared to ask the guy: Frank had clearly scene why this could be a very bad idea, but Ray clearly needed to step up his game here, as he continued to query the emo mess as the three of them walked to English.

"Because it sounds cooler than Pete, and I'm cool, you know, so I need my name to reflect my true identity, so P. Wentz is cool, also I took inspiration from P. Diddy because he's cool, and you have to have cool idols if you want to get anywhere in life."

And Frank wouldn't be wrong to assume that poor Mikey Way was another one of Pete's 'cool idols'.

Pete's persistence in gaining Mikey's affection hadn't at all faltered, and Frank couldn't help but feel like it had something to do with Mikey's absence of late, and really, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy - he hadn't really made friends, he'd just been admired from afar: he gave the cool and distant impression, but there was something about him that just screamed very fucking alone, but he was none of Frank's business, and if he continued not to show up to class, then Frank's guilt couldn't trick him into doing something about it.

"Also, since you guys are awesome, you're gonna get new names as well- you can't like have F. Iero and R. Toro because that's like copying me, so I'm gonna have to give you cool names that Frank doesn't quite deserve because he doesn't have a MySpace but I'm going to let you off because you were there when Mikey Way asked my name and your job is to remind me on a daily basis that he is in fact real."

"Pete, dude, seriously, if you just stopped obsessing over the guy and treated him like a normal fucking person then maybe he'd actually want to talk to you-" Frank didn't know why he had bothered at all, but he found his efforts severely underappreciated in the fucking shocked glare he received in response.

"It's P. Wentz not fucking Pete have you been listening at all? You know who's called Peter? Fucking Perfect Peter from Horrid Henry and he's about the biggest prick in the whole word! You know who's called P. Wentz? Fucking me!" It seemed as if Pete was more than just a little proud of his new scene kid name, and Frank was beginning to feel kind of bad for taking that away from him.

"Anyway, you two can be Ray Revenge and Frank Frozen-"

"Frank Frozen are you fucking serious?"

Of course Ray found this absolutely nothing more than stupidly hilarious. "Dude, just let it go."

"Yeah, I'll let go of you, off the edge of a fucking cliff? How about that?" Frank was being rather icy about this, but then again, if you were locked up in a castle for years and years you kind of would be, wouldn't you?

"Maybe you should be Frank Frightful instead?" Pete suggested, and smiling for real, unlike Ray who was just smirking his fucking asshole head off.

"How about Frank Go Fuck Yourself?" Frank suggested, before pushing his way into the English classroom, and being eternally thankful of that kid who had moved schools, allowing him to sit through this hell alone.

"That's not alliteration, Frank! This is English, come on, get learning!" And it seemed that Ray was entirely far too eager to keep up with Pete's fucking 'joke', despite Frank's ever-growing disgust.

And perhaps everything was okay then, as Frank condemned himself to staring out of the window as the teacher mumbled on about Shakespeare or something, because that was just about the only thing they actually did in English, but whatever, it wasn't like Frank cared at all, was it?

But, come twenty minutes into the lesson, and the classroom door slamming open as the only guy capable of giving Pete Wentz a heart attack walked in, and now, Ray, who was sat next to Pete, was paying for being an asshole to Frank in the form of having to put up with the emo mess sat beside him.

"So, Mikey, you did finally decide to join us, did you?" The teacher asked, pulling on that 'I'm an arrogant little cocksucker' voice as they grovelled on about punctuality and other shit that Frank didn't care enough for to listen to, but then before he knew anything, he found Mikey fucking Way sitting down beside him, and Frank was pretty close to making some sort of daring escape through the classroom window.

"Sorry... I guess I'm disturbing your nap or something here." Mikey let out a sigh as he leaned back in his seat: looking directly at the teacher as he continued to talk to Frank - clearly having some serious talking in class experience, not that he seemed like the type at all, but whatever.

"It's fine, I'm just having some sort of crisis because I remembered that Pete Wentz exists and how much of a little shit he is." Mikey laughed nervously in response, daring to pull his gaze across the classroom to meet with Pete's, and even if only just for a second, he knew it was a mistake.

"Yeah, he's kind of weird... I guess." Mikey pulled his sleeves further down his arms so they covered his hands: a sort of absent minded, but oddly adorable gesture. "I'm glad I'm not sat next to him, if I'm honest. You're probably the only guy I can vaguely stand in this school, but you're still also kind of annoying, but less annoying than everyone else: you're kind of look like you think you're better than everybody else and that you hate this place and it serves you no purpose."

"So do you." Frank retorted, only half offended.

"I know, but you're giving me a run for my money when it comes to being the aloof, mysterious asshole, but like, you actually talk to other people, and show up for class, so I guess I'm winning for now." And Frank began to wonder if this whole school, and this whole new town was nothing more than a game for Mikey - it was messed up, but incredibly fascinating, and to say the least, Frank was intrigued.

"So I need to step up my game, huh?" Frank chuckled, not entirely sure as to why he was going along with this, but it certainly gave him something to keep him occupied other than the teacher's voice.

"Something like that." Mikey mumbled, holding back his smile, because any sign of actual friendship between him and Frank was absolutely affecting his 'cool' facade, because well, he didn't want to let Pete down, being his 'cool idol', after all.

"Have you fucked Lindsey yet?" Frank was rather blunt about it, but it became apparent that Mikey was rather blunt about everything and didn't seem to care what Frank thought at all.

"I have no intention of doing so. She's pretty, yeah, but I don't want to fuck her - I don't care about her, she's just some girl who everyone seems to think is the fucking daughter of God, like seriously, female Jesus: you lot worship her." And well, Mikey wasn't wrong, because Frank still wasn't fully over the fact that she'd spoken to him last week.

"I know, but anyway, she spoke to me last week and-"

"Oh, so did you sleep with her?" Mikey countered, smirking like a fucking idiot.

"No, I'm gay." And Frank's tone was sarcastic enough to pull it off like a joke if Mikey pulled the homophobe card on him, but it was far from that: the guy only nodded - indifferent: he genuinely did not give one single fuck, and Frank decided then and there that he really did like Mikey Way.

"Who's the male version of Lindsey in this school then? I bet you want to sleep with him." Mikey teased, laughing a little, because hey, this was the most fun he'd had all week.

"The last person she'd slept with - it changes regularly and I'm really not up to date, anyway, she got overly excited about the fact that I'm gay, you know like straight people are like 'oh my god my gay friend' like your sexuality is the most important thing about you- fuck, I don't know what I'm saying, you're heterosexual, you're not going to understand me."

"No one's going to understand you if you keep making assumptions about people, especially the kind that aren't true." Mikey leaned back in his chair, stretching a little, before continuing. "I'm asexual, Frank."

"You don't look much like a plant." 

Frank held Mikey's fucking astonished glare for far too long before bursting into a fit of giggles, and Mikey almost slapped him.

"Very aloof, very fucking mysterious - I hope you're proud." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning away from Frank for a moment. "Frank, do you want to be as amazing like distant and cold as me?"

"And as arrogant too?" Frank raised one eyebrow, leaving Mikey to roll his eyes and reconsider ever talking to this guy in the first place.

"Something like that, anyway, bunk off with me next lesson, I want a smoking buddy, or something like that." Mikey's 'I don't need friends' facade was slipping just a little there, but whatever, Frank was eager at anything opportunity to get away from fucking Pete Wentz right now.

"Yeah, because we're not going to get caught stood around the back of school smoking when we should be in class-"

"Fucking amateur, Iero, seriously, I'm not that stupid, we're going to leave school, we're going to go back to my house, and you should think yourself lucky that I'm actually choosing to spend time with you, because I'm not, my brother's boyfriend is supposed to be visiting him today and I fucking hate that guy."

"Oh so your brother's gay?" Frank asked just about the straightest thing he’d ever said.

"He's pansexual." Mikey corrected with a sigh. "And he's very proud of it, like the fact that he's attracted to all genders is his fucking tagline he's such a fucking prick, I hate him, but he's my brother, so like, you know, I don't hate him... but his boyfriend is literally the worst person in the world, like I wouldn't be surprised if the guy had an angry pitchfork mob running after him, but yeah."

"Why's your brother dating him if he's such an asshole?" It wasn't Frank's business, but he was blunt enough to ask nonetheless.

"Because he's an asshole too and they have that in common." Frank couldn't help but laugh as Mikey only rolled his eyes. "They've been together on and off for four years now, and there's very little I can do about it: there a big part of each other's life, but at least now with the move, by tomorrow morning, Bert will have pissed off again and I can happily forget he exists, but of course, Gerard can't, can he? Gerard's my brother, by the way."

"Maybe you just need to find him someone else." Frank suggested, as the bell rang for the end of the lesson.

"Maybe I do." Mikey added, grabbing his bag as everyone stood up, and turning to Frank. "So have you chickened out yet or not?"

And before Frank could respond, Ray to him across the classroom, interrupting his train of thought. "Frank, you walking to Maths with me, or are you preoccupied here?" And an eyebrow movement that Frank would kill him for.

"I'm just talking to Mikey a moment, I'll see you later or whatever." Or whatever, because Mikey didn't make it sound like they'd really be returning to school at all.

"Just talking?" Mikey smirked after Ray had gotten out of earshot, and the two left the classroom. "I expected better, kid, I really did."

"You know I'm still up for it - he's just going to turn into my fucking mum and tell me not to and then fucking report me to the police or something." Mikey rolled his eyes at that, the two of them making their way to the edge of the school grounds and exiting via the stupidly conveniently placed footpath, like seriously, did they even care? You could just walk the fuck out.

"Why are you friends with him then?"

"Because he's too tall and I'm too short, and I've got nobody else."

"What a sob story, I'll be sure to donate monthly to the 'get Frank a friend' charity."

"How about the 'get Frank a boyfriend' charity?"

"Don't be a slut about it." Mikey rolled his eyes and quickened his pace, leaving Frank to struggle a little to catch up as the two made their way straight out of school and to what Frank assumed to be Mikey's house, or if not, the warehouse he was going to murder him in, but whatever, it would probably still be better than maths.

-

Gerard was just a little stoned, and very, very turned on.

His perspective on right and wrong shifted greatly when drugs came into play, and when Lindsey Ballato turned up at his door, without Jamia Nestor this time, and offering him some weed to get her bag that she'd totally accidentally thrown into his garden again, she'd ended up pressed against the wall with his lips on hers.

Gerard was just a little upset, and perhaps even really emotionally unstable with Bert having called him an hour or so earlier: something about difficulties and a moan in the background that Gerard assumed he wasn't supposed to hear.

But whatever, he was stoned enough now for it not to matter at all, and Lindsey was kind of cute actually, and well supportive, and very willing to help him get revenge on Bert, because they'd made it clear that this wasn't soppy or romantic, because neither Gerard nor Lindsey did soppy or romantic: this was just hormones and revenge, which were two things Gerard was very fond of, to say the least.

Gerard hadn't actually made out with a girl in an awfully long time now, and it was quite a pleasant change, and he was pretty sure that she'd gotten bright red lipstick down his necks, but that was nothing in comparison to his latest batch of hickeys.

Of course, he'd gotten revenge, not in lipstick, but in hickeys, and everything was just needy moans and messy kisses as the two forgot about the whole world around them.

Lindsey thought the guy was pretty hot, and she was feeling pretty lonely right now: Jamia was being off with her, and the last guy she'd got with had pissed off to Australia, and she hated him now, or something like that. Honestly, she didn't even care about him, but it was more fun to say that she had.

For Lindsey, it was all about fun, and making out with Gerard Way was most definitely fun, and most definitely something she'd just ticked off her bucket list.

"Mmm... you're hard, aren't you?" She pulled away, smirking at Gerard as she grinded against his hips a little.

"Mmm...." Was Gerard's response, proving that eloquence and hormones didn't exactly go all that well together.

"Want some help with that?" She continued, pulling away further. Gerard nodded without thinking at all. "You gotta return the favour, though - understand, fuckboy?"

"I'm not a fuckboy-" Gerard protested, cheeks bright red.

"You want me to suck your dick or not?" She didn't wait for a response before sinking to her knees and leaving Gerard's slightly askew set of morals to deal with not thinking about his sort of boyfriend as some school girl sucked him off- but of course, this wasn't just some school girl, this was Lindsey fucking Ballato.

Although, Gerard didn't quite seem to grasp her popularity and goddess like status at all, because if he had, he probably wouldn't have agreed to this at all, because she was definitely ruining his mysterious outcast credibility with her popularity right there, but she was cute and she was just about to put his dick in her mouth as the front door opened.

"Gerard?" Mikey called out, surprised not to have seen him and Bert just openly fucking on the sofa in front of them or something, and well, when he walked into the dining room, he really was in for a surprise.

"Fuck." Gerard practically threw his head back against the wall, zipping himself back up as Lindsey got to her feet. "My brother." He added as a whispered explanation, and that was all the two got before Mikey opened the dining room and from the millions of hickeys on their necks, could just about piece together what had happened.

"Oh hi Frank." Lindsey piped up, seeing Frank peering into the room from behind Mikey.

Frank blushed in response, because this was an all new kind of awkward. "Hi..." Had Mikey gotten 'Bert' and Lindsey Ballato mixed up or something?

"I thought Bert was coming over today." Mikey snapped, clearly not approving of what had happened between his brother and the girl Pete had wanted him to fuck.

"Yeah, he fucking changed his mind didn't he, Mikey?" Gerard rolled his eyes at his brother, moving away from the wall so Frank could get his first glimpse of him properly, and hot fucking damn.

Frank Iero had never related to the female population of the school in their wishes to be Lindsey Ballato so much. Gerard was pathetically hot, and Frank was just pathetic.

"So you go fuck some random girl-" With the amount of school he'd not actually turned up to, Mikey was still to actually meet Lindsey Ballato, which was some sort of never before seen kind of crazy experience.

"Mikey, that's Lindsey Ballato." Frank added from behind Mikey, although he was spending far more time staring at Gerard than he was Lindsey.

"Oh... right, okay-" Mikey's cheeks went a horrible shade of red, his mind focused on nothing but Pete's weird sexual fantasy involving the backbend and whether or not that was something his brother had just experienced.

"Oh, Mikey Way- sorry, I haven't met you yet, I've heard quite a lot about you, but you're never actually at school, are you?" Lindsey smiled at him, and continued like she wasn't about to suck his brother's dick before he walked in.

"You're not at school now either, you know?" Mikey raised one eyebrow, as Gerard continued to stand there awkwardly in what was probably the most awkward experience of his life, but then, he actually seemed to notice Frank's existence, and well, he couldn't help but wish that he'd turned up before Lindsey had.

"Yeah, well, I'm making up for it - I was supposed to have 'sexual education' right now-"

"Not with my fucking brother home." Gerard let out a sigh, rolling his eyes a little. "Mikey, why are you even here? Go the fuck back to school."

"Tell that to your girlfriend, how about that?"

"She's not my girlfriend-" Gerard protested, shaking his head a little.

"I'm really not." Lindsey added. "I would fuck off now, but I'd really rather not go back to school, you know?"

"Okay, just go fuck my brother where we can't see or hear you, huh?" 

"Actually, I need to talk to Frank." She glared at Mikey, pushing past him and grabbing Frank by the hand.

"You fucking him too?" Mikey called out after her: it was pathetic, but whatever, he didn't like her, but then again, Mikey didn't tend to like any of the people Gerard fucked or kissed or whatever.

"No, I'm fucking talking to him about the guy that I'm trying to set him up with."

And oh fuck, Frank liked guys and Gerard was about to bang his head against the wall right in front of his brother because he really did not know what to feel right now.

-


	4. Lindsey Ballato's Three Step Guide To Becoming Something

Gerard Way had fallen asleep with his head buried face first into the sofa, and his legs curled up against his chest, and a half eaten packet of Doritos knocked off the table beside him and now residing in crumbs and mess all over the carpeted surface of the living room floor: his mum would kill him.

Thankfully, somehow, Mikey was the first to wake up, stumbling down stairs in boxers and the first shirt he'd pulled off his bedroom floor in a half asleep state; it was probably something to do with the fact that it was a Saturday and Mikey had found an absolutely wonderful 'gift from heaven' esque dealer, which he was not quite so inclined to share with his older brother.

The seventeen year old found himself rolling his eyes as he peered into the living room: the TV still on in the background at the lowest volume, displaying some sort of news show that he knew Gerard hadn't been originally watching; he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched it off as Gerard let out a loud sigh in his sleep, rolling over and burying his face deeper into the couch cushions.

Mikey thought it best just to leave his brother in peace like this, even if Mrs Way would not be quite as inclined to do the same when she noticed the Dorito crumbs all over the carpet; he eventually settled upon brushing the major crumbs under the sofa and pulling the coffee table closer to the sofa in an attempt to disguise the mess at all.

Mikey placed the packet back on the table, and in doing so, happened upon his brother's cellphone: the screen illuminating in a burst of unwelcome bright light as the device vibrated against the coffee table. Mikey valued his brother's privacy, but his own curiosity was a demon he couldn't quite ever overcome, especially as he knew he'd receive no repercussions for the deed as long as he was careful. 

With a cautious glance in Gerard's direction, Mikey inhaled sharply and grabbed the device; Gerard's passcode was his date of birth and had been for years now, and Mikey wondered why he'd even insisted that Gerard change it in the first place. 

Mikey didn't exactly mean to go all super privacy invasion suspicious mum mode and like look through everything on there, but he did indeed settle upon opening the messages app, and in turn, Gerard's conversation with Bert.

He scanned the messages quickly, and didn't bother to scroll too far up, as he was rather satisfied to see that Bert had texted Gerard something about them being 'done' at about four in the morning, which Gerard had presumably fallen asleep before receiving; Mikey marked it as unread and moved onto the most recent conversation - the one that had alerted Mikey to the phone's presence in the first place.

This one took Mikey by surprise, to say the least.

The contact name didn't exactly give took much away: a simple 'F', but the messages said everything Mikey could ever want to know and more.

There was some serious flirting, but some fucking middleschooler flirting, and in fact it was awkward and painful to read, but then Mikey's eyes flickered across the most recent message: 'Meet me today?'.

Mikey didn't even quite know how to react as he marked the message as unread and put the phone back down on the table, letting out a deep sigh, before exiting the room and making his way into the kitchen.

So, his brother was getting laid, again? After the whole thing with Lindsey a few days ago, and after Bert breaking up with him at four in the morning- and fucking hell, he didn't even know that Bert had broken up with yet. Mikey could hope that the trauma of a break up would deter his brother from going and fucking another innocent victim, however, he knew Gerard well enough to say that that was most certainly not the case.

Eventually, he settled upon simply brushing all thoughts of Gerard out of his head, and making some coffee. 

He made his way back upstairs as the kettle boiled: putting some jeans on over his boxers, and grabbing a hoodie from the floor, and his phone from the side. 

He finished in the bathroom just as the kettle had finished boiling, and he made his way back downstairs just in time to see a very groggy looking Gerard emerge from the living room like some sort of coffee zombie.

"Morning." Mikey raised one eyebrow at his brother as he made a dash for the kettle, pouring the hot water into the mug he'd prepared earlier, because apparently Mikey's life was fucking Blue Peter. "This is my coffee." He added, with a stern glance in his brother's direction.

"I'm ill." Gerard announced, rubbing his eyes. "I need coffee."

"If you're ill then you need to go to the doctors." Mikey told his brother, taking a second to reminder himself that he was in fact the younger one here. "I'm not making you coffee: you can make it yourself."

Gerard groaned and pushed past Mikey to the kettle, leaving the seventeen year old to take a seat at the table, and sip his coffee elegantly like a classy fucking lady as browsed through his own text messages.

Mikey was significantly less popular than Gerard, with only one text from Frank that made very little sense and was probably sent to the wrong person anyway; he responded with the first emoji he saw, which just happened to be that fucking moon, but whatever, it was most definitely appropriate in consideration of just how early it was, like ten in the fucking morning? Early as fuck, for sure.

"You're going out?" Gerard finally noticed the fact that his brother was fully dressed, and met it with disbelief, because it wasn't like Mikey Way was the most sociable of beings, not that Gerard was either, but whatever.

"Yep." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning his phone screen off and putting the device back in his pocket, before looking up to face his brother.

"Why?" Gerard continued to look at him with a great deal of suspicion, which to say the least, was not a gesture that Mikey particularly appreciated, but whatever.

"Because I want to?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, actually rushing to finish his coffee now, and just so that he could get the fuck out of the house without Gerard performing some serious police investigation or something.

"Well, that's blown my mind- what the fuck is that?" Gerard groaned as a loud blaring sound resonated throughout the house.

"Your phone. Answer it before mum wakes the fuck up and slaps you for it." Mikey let out a sigh, finishing his coffee and trying his best not to think too hard about just who it could be calling Gerard right now - Bert, or the extremely mysterious and elusive 'F'.

-

Lindsey Ballato finished her cigarette in two minutes, stubbing it out against the tarmac of the play park with her heel, as she leaned back into the swing, casually moving a little, as she pulled her cellphone out to check the time, because yeah, she was right - that motherfucker was late.

'That motherfucker' being of course none other than Frank Iero, who was slightly dubious about Lindsey's extravagant matchmaking scheme, and was far more interested in the phone number that he'd acquired from her last night, well Jamia.

Jamia was turning out to be Frank's best friend at this rate, and mainly for the fact that she was super fucking observant, and well, they were sort of partners in homosexual crime right now: some sort of mission to split up whatever thing was going on between Lindsey and Gerard so that they could date them.

The mission wasn't exactly having a very high success rate, and mainly due to the fact that Lindsey was oblivious and stubborn as fuck, but Gerard was rather happy to receive a text from a slightly drunk Frank Iero late last night, and Frank would call that his greatest victory yet.

Of course, the asshole still hadn't replied to him about meeting him today, and Frank found himself stuck with Lindsey and her desperate attempts to find him a boyfriend. 

Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and let her do it, because Gerard liked Lindsey, and Gerard sort of already had a boyfriend, and Gerard was just fucking confusing, but also really hot, and way out of Frank's league, yet somehow Frank had landed himself some sort of friendship was Lindsey Ballato, which may or may not be on the premise of his sexuality, which was a particular straight person quirk that Frank didn't really care for, but whatever.

Frank arrived ten minutes late, and in that time, Lindsey was on her third cigarette, and was doing a wonderful job in ensuring that all mothers who actually wanted their children to play in the play park didn't actually go a ten metre radius of her.

Frank had to give her credit for that, because she did indeed look punk rock as fuck, and Frank couldn't even begin to imagine just how long those boots with the platforms and the buckles that went up to her knees had taken to get on this morning.

"Iero. Late, much?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows as Frank approached the play park. She gestured to the swing beside her as he closed the gate behind himself, and a mother scowled at the two of them from a distance, and Lindsey made a point not to give one single shit.

"Slept in or something." Frank mumbled, putting his hood down as he sat down beside her.

"Or something?" Lindsey rolled her eyes at the emo mess beside her.

"What?"

"Basically you're late because you woke up with an extreme case of morning wood and you had to get yourself off before leaving the house, because that would be awkward, but then you found some really great porn and got distracted- I would suggest some examples, but I don't actually tend to watch gay porn... lesbian porn, sometimes, but a dude sticking his dick in another dude's butt? Nah, sorry."

"I was actually waiting for someone to reply to a text message-"

"Cellphones are portable, Frank, that's the point, you could have very easily received the message on your way here." Lindsey let out a sigh, and passed a cigarette in Frank's direction, which he took with question or concern for his lungs, because it was Lindsey fucking Ballato, okay?

"Still didn't get a response." Frank muttered, putting the cigarette between his lips and taking the lighter from Lindsey's palm, lighting his cigarette, and passing the lighter back to her.

"Tragic." She let out a sigh, gaze fixated upon the grey, cloudy skies. "I think it's gonna rain soon, and this isn't waterproof mascara, so you can hurry the fuck up with your cigarette, and we can go meet that guy."

"Oh- you've already- set me up... oh..." Frank's eyes widened as he did all in his power not to think about Gerard fucking Way, and well, failed tremendously.

"Gabe Saporta. His name sounds like Gay Supporter, and I thought you might appreciate that." Lindsey explained, grabbing her cellphone and sending a quick message to the gay supporter in question.

"Wait so is this guy actually gay, or are you just going off his name?" Frank asked, his eyes widening, as he took a moment to consider just what the fuck he'd gotten himself into, and why he was just so inclined to listen to every fucking word Lindsey Ballato said, and without question too.

"We'll find out soon, won't we?" She giggled, pocketing her cellphone and turning to Frank, who was very firmly shaking his head at her.

"Jamia is much more bearable than you." Frank rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette: in no hurry to finish it, but he didn't question the fact that Lindsey would slap him if her make up started to run.

"Jamia's cute, she's just nice, she's funny, cute, amazing, but she's not the girl who kicked Brendon Urie in the balls last summer." Frank knew he most definitely going to repeat the first half of that sentence to Jamia when he got the chance.

"She could be the girl who kicks him in the balls this summer." Frank added with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Or it could be you: you could be the boy who kicks him in the balls." Lindsey glanced back up at the sky. "Anyone could make it here, you know: it's just luck, I'm honestly nothing special, Frank, I'm just a pretty face with a short temper and high standards. And you, you're two steps of the way there."

Lindsey stood up as Frank finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the tarmac, before following suit.

"Which two?" Frank couldn’t help but ask and with an uncontrollable curiosity.

"How about you find that out for yourself, huh?"

-

Gabe Saporta seemed far more interested in Lindsey than Frank, but then again, Frank wasn't exactly surprised, because despite being a raging homosexual, he was still far more interested in Lindsey Ballato than he would ever be in himself.

Gabe had weed, though, and lots of it, so the situation kind of made up for itself, and well, Frank wasn't exactly a '420 enthusiast', but if Lindsey Ballato was telling him to do something, he found himself doing so regardless.

He smoked far more casually than the other two: disinterested and barely listening to their conversation, and his whole heart stopping at the text tone that they didn't even notice.

A fucking text from fucking Gerard Way was far more important than anything else in the world to Frank right then.

He glanced up at Lindsey and Gabe and noted just how close they were getting, and Frank wondered just how on earth he'd ended up third wheeling on what was supposed to be his own date, even if it was one he’d been set up in. He wondered if Lindsey would go as far as to kiss Gabe in front of him: Frank didn't particularly care, he was just curious - curious as to just how far Lindsey would go, and as to just how far he'd continue to put up with it.

Frank had low standards.

He was unaware, of course, but Lindsey was, and she knew that was what he was missing, and perhaps this was just some elaborate exercise in which to highlight it for him to see, or perhaps that would be the excuse Lindsey would stitch together in her head when she found herself in Gabe's bed the next morning.

Frank just genuinely didn't care about Gabe, though: he wasn't particularly good looking, and the message from Gerard still lay unread on his cellphone.

Frank glanced down at it and felt his heart skipping a beat as he did so.

He mumbled something about the bathroom, and Gabe pointed vaguely to his left, leaving Frank to wander off in that direction and lock himself in the bathroom, and then finally read the message, because it felt important, like a private ordeal: something special, and Frank was ridiculous, and he knew it.

'Sure. I'm kinda sad but you can make me happy'

The text was in response to Frank's from several hours ago now: the one about hanging out today, and holy fuck, Frank's heart was exploding, and he was beginning to wonder just whether they’d ever look to see if he'd died in the toilet or something.

'When? Where?'

Frank wondered if his response was too eager, and in turn, Frank wondered if he cared, and well, he didn't quite get the time to fully figure it out before Gerard had responded, telling him to come over whenever, and just like that, Frank was unlocking the toilet door, and creeping through the kitchen, and then unlocking the backdoor with the key on the side, because face it, neither Lindsey nor Gabe would miss him, and even if Lindsey did actually happen to notice his absence, she'd text him, or she'd be preoccupied with something else, and it'd be forgotten.

But Frank didn't care, because Lindsey didn’t mean bad - that was just who she was, and that was alright, as long as Frank could be who he was, and it turned out that who Frank was, was the guy who sneaked out through the backdoor to avoid third wheeling and go 'comfort' the older brother of one of his very few friends.

God, Frank just hoped that Mikey wouldn't be in.

-

Thankfully, he wasn't, and Gerard didn't mention too much about, so Frank treated it with the same disregard as the two made their way upstairs and into Gerard's bedroom.

He muttered a quick apology about the state of the room, but Frank didn't care, and in turn, Frank muttered a quick apology about the state of his existence: Gerard didn't care.

Gerard didn't even seem to hear him, actually, and well, Gerard was like Lindsey in a lot of ways.

As the nineteen year old lit a cigarette, grabbing his ash tray from the windowsill, Frank stood there watching, and marking Gerard up to Lindsey's three step criteria for being worth people's time: three steps to becoming something, or whatever.

It was obvious that Gerard had the pretty face, and the high standards: high enough to ignore Frank's menial mutterings, but not high enough as to ignore Frank completely; Frank wondered if he was really just here to keep Gerard company when he was sad, but he'd ended up pushing the thought out of his head before it could really start to bother him.

Frank was unsure about Gerard having a short temper, though: he seemed pretty passive when the whole ordeal between him, Mikey, and Lindsey had occurred, and it puzzled Frank, because Gerard would definitely rank as high as Lindsey, or if not, higher, or the scale of importance, well in the mind of a highschooler, but Gerard was a strong nine, and Frank was a two at best.

Pete Wentz was a four.

Although, that had something to do with the amount of people he'd slept with, and Frank was well, a sad little virgin, and Gerard Way was probably the opposite of a virgin, and Frank wasn't listening to a single word the nineteen year old was saying at all.

"You're not listening." Gerard noted with something vaguely resembling a smirk: something that puzzled Frank. "That's funny."

"I- I'm- sorry-" Frank stuttered out, taking a seat beside Gerard: a seat on the bed, and perhaps he most awkward seat Frank had ever found himself in.

"Doesn't matter." Gerard gave a shrug, accompanied by a puff of nicotine. "Tell me what you were thinking about - it's probably far more interesting than my sob story anyway."

"I was thinking about you." Frank found the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop himself.

Gerard chuckled, raising his eyebrows, and turning to face Frank with a greater interest. "About fucking me? Or just how wonderful I am in general?"

"I-I-I-..." Frank's cheeks blushed such a deep scarlet that Gerard wondered if he'd pass out from it: thankfully, he didn't.

"I was talking about how my ex-boyfriend broke up with me last night, just so you know, because you weren't listening." Gerard finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray, and then pushing the ashtray into the furthest corner of his bedside table.

"Oh- I'm sorry-"

"So you can fuck me if you want to, just saying." Gerard paused, moving closer to Frank. "Or I could fuck you? If you want."

"I-I-..."

"Anytime you want, Frank, just tell me: it's an offer, it's a thing - I'd say yes if you asked, nothing more, nothing less." Gerard stood up, and made his way across the room: getting another cigarette from the packet he'd left on the dresser. "Think about it?"

-


	5. Frank Experiences Ridickulous Problems

Frank's heart was fluttering as the wall shook behind him: two wrists pinning him against the plaster, and another's lips on his his, Frank's sense going numb with the sensation that could only be described as weightless, because maybe his heart had just been beating so fast that it was nothing but broken at this point, because whatever it was, Frank was certainly losing breath, and there certainly wasn't a lot of blood in his ehad right now, but then again, they could easily be mere side effects of the fingers leaving cold trails down his chest and stomach until they finally reached the waistband of his boxers.

"Let me fucking touch you." And there was no denial in the fact that the voice was familar: perhaps even too familair, in fact, but still, Frank couldn't quite place it, until he found his gaze reaching those perfect hazel eyes, and realisation came like a kick in the balls, but Frank didn't have much to ponder over, before his pants were at his knees and, well, Gerard's hand was curling around his dick.

And fuck.. fuck... nothing had ever felt better, and Frank was just about as certain of that as he was certain that he was dying on the iniside right now.

"So fucking perfect, so fucking hot, and so fucking mine." The voice, now undeniably Gerard's, whispered against his ear, breath hot on his neck, and really that wasn't the only part of Frank that was alamost uncomfortably hot right now.

And as Gerard's hand tightened around Frank, before the seventeen year old even knew what was happening, he was coming absolutely fucking everywhere.

And before Frank even knew what had happened, he woke up in his bed, alone, and groaned as he pulled his hand away from himself and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table - 6:57. Frank sighed, sitting up in bed, and cringing at the awfully big mess he'd made, because although Gerard had been nothing but a fantasy, the feelings going through Frank right then most definitely were not.

And fuck, Frank was going to have to wash his fucking sheets and everything sucked, everything, except his dick, because that realy was not getting sucked right now, and Frank was nothing but disappointed, and somehow still turned on, even as he turned his alarm clock off and forced himself out of bed, and into a very, very cold shower.

Of course, the freezing temperatures did nothing to subdue his raging homosexual fantasies, whoich he'd seemed to have been cursed with every since he'd made the absolute fucking mistake of going to meet Gerard last week, when he could have been a wonderful untraumatised third wheel with Lindsey and Gabe, who had turned out not to be a gay supporter seeing as he practically hadn't left Lindsey's side all week, and what had happened after Frank had left was pretty easy to guess.

Frank ddin't mind at all, though, as he was far more preoccupied with fucking unfairly hot Gerard Way, and his habits of sleeeping with the whole world, and flirting with awkward teenagers, especially Frank, and in all honesty, there hadn't been a night that Frank had woken up with clean sheets since Gerard had just brought up the casual 'fcuk me' offer, which of course, Frank had been too awkward to accept befeore it drove him crazy.

Of course, Mikey would have probably killed him when he inevitabitly did find out, and well, Frank knew gerard well enough to know that this wouldn't be a happily ever after kind of thing, and really, Frank wouldn't even be surprised if the guy was already back with Bert, and had forgotten all about what he'd said to Frank.

But of course, Farnk's head had ensured he knew that he could never, ever possibly even fathom forgetting the way Gerard Way made him feel.

Frank glanced down at his dick in the shower, muttering something like, 'you fucker', before rolling his eyes and getting out of the shower and attempting to pull in his best 'I didn't have a sexdream about your brother' facade to face Mikey with today.

Because Mikey certainly seemed to have a very stubborn habit of despsising everyone his brother had ever slept with, and well, Lindsey Ballato was the living proof of that, because hating Lindsey? Well, that just wasn't natural.

-

"Frank? Are you even listening?" Ray was acting in a very maternal fashion towards Frank's lack of participation and interest in their History project, but then again, it wasn't exactly Frank's idea to let both Pete and Mikey into their group.

Sure, Frank did actually value Mikey as a friend, but the longer these fucked up sexdreams went on, the less he could look the guy in the eye without feeling the urge to spurt out a 'hail Mary' or two, which most certainly wouldn't go without question.

"Nope..." Frank mumbled, throwing his head down against the desk, and closing his eyes for second, before Ray fucking slapped him across the afce, and that definitely fucking counted as absue and Frank was going to call the police right this fucking instant.

"Frank, you're letting me down, you're letting the group down, and you're letting the fucking country down." Ray continued in his efforts to get Frank to give one single fuck, but found them yielding little results.

"Good, America can go fuck itself." Frank grovelled, only to be jabbed in the side by an extreemly agitated Mikey Way. "What?"

"Do you wanna bunk off after this?" Mikey asked, and fuck, now, now Frank was listening, and now Ray's eyes were widening in an 'oh, fuck no, you will not do that' manner.

"Please." Frank groaned, forgetting all about Mikey's Way's motehrucking home and the motherfucking older brother thatw as there right now in favour of saving him from more of this hell.

"I mean, we could just go now, this substitute is hardly going to notice." Mikey suggested, only for Ray to finallly butt in: completely astounded by the fact that Frank would ever do this, ever. In fact, he was motherfucking disappointed in him.

"Frank, are you serious right now? You could get in trouble, you are not- no-"

"Ray, I think sometimes you forget that you aren't my mum." Frank added, rolling his eyes a little, and bracing himself as Pete returned from sharpening his pencil or something for seven hours.

"Mikey Way would you like me to sharpen your pencil?" And Frank couldn't help but laugh, because with the nerves and velocity that the words left Pete's lips with, it couldn't help sound an awful lot like some sort of fucked up nerdy euphemism.

"Uhh..." Mikey dragged the sound out, glancing between Ray and Frank, who were both laughing their motherufkcing heads off, and glaring. "No? I'm- I'm not exactly sure what you're asking..."

"Mikey, let's just go?" Frank pulled his head away from his hands and motioned towards the door, because seriously, facing the guy he'd thought about whilst coming for the past week was far better than this fucking shit.

"Where?" Pete, of course, had to ask, staring at Mikey in nothing short of a creepy stalkerish manner.

"They're bunking off." Ray grumbled, orlling his eyes, because as Frank's mother, in spirit, he felt as if he couldn't possibly allow this to happen.

"CAn I join?" Pete asked with excessively dilated pupils, which lead to beg the question, just what had he been doing 'sharpening his pencil' for so long.

"If he's going then I am, because fuck it, I'm not doing this shitty ass project alone." Ray concluded with a sigh, and Frank reckoned it'd be to worth taking Pete just to ensure that Ray didn't go all fucking maternal on his ass and fucking tell on them; he conveyed this all to Mikey in one expertly perfected, totally realistic glance.

"Fine."

-

Mikey really wasn't a people person, and that was true throughout all aspects of his life; Frank was just that obligatory 'we're in highschool be my partner in group projects' friend, and he had most certainly not prepared to drag both Pete Wentz and Ray Toro home with him before lunch, because this was running a serious risk of actually being worse than school, because with school, it wasn't like he was forced into Pete Wentz's vicinity, was it?"

And Gerard was possibly even less pleased to see three random teenagers in his house than Mikey was, although, that definitely had something to do with Frank's presence and the offer that still hung unaddressed and awkward in the air.

And well, the eye contact, it was both deadly and inevitable, and Frank found himself standing at loss for breath in the iving room of the Way household.

"Mum is going to kill you for smoking inside." Mikey addressed his brother, finding no need to introduce Gerard to Pete and Ray, because well, to them, Gerard would be nothing more than that dude, whereas Frank could only yearn for and dream for such a simply basis and menial relationship.

"Let her. Fucking let her." Gerard put the cigarettes between his fingers and got up to face the four teenagers. "You too many friends now, Mikey, am I seriously supposed to remember all their names?"

"If you just fucked off and took your cigarette outside you wouldn't have to worry about their existence at all, you could just pretend that they don't even exist." Mikey suggested with a glare in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, maybe, let me kidnap Frank for a minute or two, though: we need to talk." Gerard seemed to have no concern for subtely, and both Frank's heart and Frank's stomach were doing metaphorical backflips right now.

"You met him like once?" Mikey responded with confusion, unlike Ray, whose face was making it evident that he was drawing together some kind of uncomfortable conclusion here.

"Yeah, that's not structly true- come on, Frankie." And with that, Gerard grabbed Frank by the arm and pulled him throughout the house and through the backdoor, and Frank's heart didn't start beating again until Gerard had him slammed up against the backgate.

"Fuck..." Gerard let out a sigh, putting his cigarette back to his lips and steepping away, just taking in Frank, and every stupid thought in his head right now. "You really are gorgeous, you know that?"

Frank blushed, shurgging a little, at an utter loss for words. "I... I.. you too."

"Oh I know." Gerard smirked, giggling a little too, before leaning back against the gate with Frank at his side. "You thought about my little proposition yet? Because yeah, I was rpetty fucked up, but it still stands: if there's anything that never fails me, it's my di- I... is this too much?" Frank shook his head before he could speak

"Never fails you?" Frank raised an eyebrow: his voice cracking a spiked with a nervous kind of poison. "So you've never had an awkward wet dream about someone you shouldn't have and woke up fucked up and cursing?" Gerard remained silent, his eyes widening a little. "Because I have, every fucking day since you... you... you and I- and it's fucking killing me."

"You should be embracing your attraction towards me. You should be embracing your sexuality, your hormones, your emotions, everything. You don't want to suppress things, Frankie, that's when things get fucked up, and we can't even fuck now, because Mikey's brought over half the fucking school-"

"I can promise you that the school has more than six pupils." Frank added, and for what purpose, he didn't entirely know, but whatever.

"I can promise you that I really don't care." Gerard snapped back before he could really assess just how upset it could make Frank. "Bert still hasn't spoken to me." He added a moment later, shurgging it off a little. "It's probably a good thing, but it doesn't feel like that inside."

"If you're happy, you're better off without him-"

"But, Frankie, I'm not, because I'm a little fucking whore, both in bed and for people, for attention, for everything: I need people to tell me I'm beautiful, and that they want to fuck me, because I can't just tell myself that. I'm not self-confident, Frank, I assure you, I'm just fucked up and arrogant, and kind of broken too, it seems."

Gerard paused, lighting another cigarette in the silence.

"You know how they say your soulmate is your other half? I don't think Bert's my soulmate, I don't think we really fit, but I think it's close enough, and really far better than the alternative, because my other half. I'm just a half on my own: incomplete, or something, I guess."

"You're not incomplete-"

"Then tell me why I need you so much right now.

-

"You always look hot, Lindsey." Jamia let out a sigh, looking up from her cellphone as Lindsey put on what was probably the forty seventh slightly different outfit this evening.

"I do, I do, but I want to be hot and fuckbale, maybe I just want to be pretty, like... I want people to see the pretty face and not the short skirt and boobs- not that there's anything wrong with that- of course there isn't, I- I wanna be cute, you know what I mean?" Lindsey let out a sigh, sitting down on the end of Jamia's bed in nothing but a bra and panties and Jamia was getting so serious lesbian feels right now.

"You are cute." Jamia promised her with what was probably the worst diguised blush in the whole world. "You're really cute."

Lindsey let out a sigh and pulled on a random shirt. "Maybe I just shouldn't go to this party."

"Why on earth not?" Jamia exclaimed, pocketing her cellphone in order to turn her full attention to her unfairly beautiful and overhwelmingly attractive best friend.

"Because Gabe's not that hot, okay? I was kind of stoned, and I don't really like his friends, and I've been with him for like five days now - that's way too long."

"You definitely have commitment issues." Jamia smiled, shuffling a little closer to Lindsey in the most heterosexual manner she could muster.

"Guys get dull pretty fast, it's not my fault I need to keep things going." And Jamia was so damn close to suggesting that she tried girls instead, but Jamia at least had the dignity not to ruin her life over some stupid little crush.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" Jamia asked, her eyebrows raised a little. "You want it to be just us, or do you want invite some other people over, because like my parents aren't here this weekend, so-"

"I like Frankie, you know, Frankie who likes cock? But I think he kind of hates me because I was supposed to be setting him up with Gabe, but like that didn't happen... I don't know... shall I just text him? Invite him over or something?" She asked, and Jamia only shrugged, because really, there was no point attempting to argue with Lindsey Ballato. "No, seriously, Jamia, do you want Frank here? Or do you not like him? You didn't want me to talk to him that one time and-"

"No, Frank's cool, he and I are friends." Jamia smiled and nodded, because Frank Iero was probably the only one of Lindsey's 'friends' that she could even fathom tolerating, and she was most definitely going to make the most of this before Lindsey inevitabily got tired of him.

Lindsey seemed to always get tired of everyone. Except Jamia.

And that was something that Jamia could never quite put her finger on.

-

Frank hadn't really planned on being Lindsey Ballato's cliche gay best friend, but the alternate was staying at home and fretting over this mess he'd gotten himself into with Gerard Way, so he reckoned being forced into taking some weird Buzzfeed quiz about dicks by Lindsey Ballato was probably the best he could get out of this evening.

"What is your ideal length?" Lindsey asked, reading from the screen of her laptop in an accent that had spawned from the half empty bottle of white wine beside her, because even wehn she was getting tipsy, Lindsey was still classy as fuck.

"F-Fuck I..." Frank blushed, turning to Jamia for support, who only shook her head and continued persuing Lindsey's DVD collection.

"You can pick from 'short but sweet', 'average length but astounding ability', 'on the large side', 'riDICKulously big', and 'size doesn't matter to me'." Lindsey read the options aloud, leaving both Jamia and Frank in tears, because oh Buzzfeed, you tried.

"It's more about who's it is really, isn't it? I mean, if they're ugly as fuck I'm still not gonna like, but if they're like-... like... cute... I-" Frank cheeks burned up until he was resembling a homosexual tomato, and that really wasn't a good look.

"You like someone, don't you?" Lindsey slammed her laptop closed and jumped onto the bed beside Frank: eager with curiousity and doing a wodnerful job of intimidating poor Frank Iero.

"Leave him alone, Lindsey." Jamia shook her head from across the room, but Lindsey wasn't listening at all.

"I-I-..." Frank swallowed hard, looking down as all of his thoughts focused upon that one motherfucker. "I... guess..."

"Who?" Lindsey continued, her head practically exploding with excitement.

"It's none of your business, Lindsey, if he wants it to be secret, then it can stay that way-"

"Jamia already knows, I guess..." Frank shrugged, continuing to blush like hell. "It's kind of awkward, though. Just tell her, Jamia."

"What? She knows?" Lindsey exclaimed, finding herself seriously personally offeneded by this.

"He likes Gerard." Jamia let out a sigh, putting the DVD collection to one side and meeting Lindsey's gaze in order to read her reaction. "I gave him Gerard's number and I think he's never going to stop thanking me for it."

"That's cute."

Needless to say, Frank blushed, and he blushed like hell itself.

"You don't mind? I mean, you and him... I-" Frank stuttered out, his words getting lost in his throat a little.

"Nothing, Frankie, it's me, you know me, don't you?" Lindsey giggled, and pulled Frank into her side. "I think I'm going to go for Mikey now anyway, he seems apprehensive and I like a challenge: it's more fun that way, don't you think?"

"Mikey's asexual." Frank pointed out. "Sorry to burst your bubble but he really doesn't wanna fuck."

"I'll go for a kiss instead then?" Lindsey grinned, leaning back on the bed, and leaving Jamia to roll her eyes and text someone randomly to apologise for Lindsey's existence because it had become somewhat of a coping method at this point.

"Good luck fighting Pete Wentz off him." Frank giggled, not expecting his statement to catch Lindsey so much by surprise.

"Pete likes him?"

"Totally fucking pathetic stalker head over heels likes him: it's ridiculous." Frank confirmed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Like you and Gerard then?" Lindsey said with a smirk. "You turn into a tomato whenever someone even says his name, how has he not even noticed yet?"

"No... he knows... it's just weird, it's just Gerard, he's like you, he does fucking and not feelings and well, I'm just fucked and in entrely the wrong way."

"He's a very good kisser if it's any consolation."

"To my wet dreams, yes, but to my sanity, fuck no."

-


	6. In Which Pete Asks Mikey To Be His Sugar Daddy

"I've made a plan."

"What?"

"A plan."

"What kind of plan?"

Lindsey Ballato, stood in the morning light of Jamia Nestor's kitchen, opened her laptop and placed it on the dining table, only leaning down to press a key on the keyboard, before making her way towards the fridge, in search of something to eat.

"You made a freaking _powerpoint_?" Frank exclaimed, looking up from his cup of coffee in order to catch a glimpse of just what Lindsey's elusive plan was.

"I stayed up until five making this shit, be fucking grateful, Iero." Lindsey muttered for the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee as she pulled some sort of edible generic breakfast food out of the fridge. What she ate isn't important, okay?

"What exactly is this a powerpoint about?" Jamia dared to ask, hitting space bar and pulling up the next slide, which was... _interesting_ to say the least. "Is that Gerard-"

"This is the plan that involves getting Frank with Gerard and me to seduce Mikey, or something like that." Lindsey explained, pouring milk into her coffee in a manner that bared a striking resemblance to that one milk obsessed kid who was friends with Brendon Urie, who she was famous for kicking in the balls last summer.

"And what am I supposed to do? Watch awkwardly?" Jamia retorted, leaning back in her chair, and getting as far away from this fucked up plan as she possibly could.

"Whatever you want: join in, try and fuck with us, huh?" Lindsey smirked, taking a seat at the table with her coffee.

"Seriously, what the fuck is that?" Jamia asked, gesturing to the powerpoint slide that Frank hadn't taken his eyes off since it'd come on.

"Oh, well, I did some stalking, as you do, well, you know, that's just every single photo of Gerard Way on the internet that I could find ever, arranged in chronological order." Lindsey shrugged it off, simply like she wasn't a fucking psychopath, as Jamia took another look at the slide.

"This is some crazy shit-" Frank exclaimed, shaking his head as he finally managed to take his eyes off the computer screen. "He does look really damn hot with red hair, though."

"Told you: you would have never known that without my help, anyway, if you've finished here then we can move onto the next slide." And Frank, albeit a little reluctantly, moved to the next slide, not really sure what to expect at all.

"How much stalking did you _do_?" Jamia exclaimed, her eyes widening as a slide full of _far_ too much information about Gerard Way filled the screen.

"A lot." She admitted, giggling a little. "I feel like Frank needs the help, though: he's an awkward little shit. I know nothing about Mikey, though: it's more fun that way."

"Lindsey, this isn't a _game_ -" Jamia protested, but as usual, Lindsey wasn't listening.

"It kind of is, don't you think, now don't be such a bitch about things, look, come on, do you want me to find you a guy? Do you feel left out? Is that what this is?" She asked, leaving Jamia to just shake her head at her best friend, before standing up. " _Jamia_? I'm sorry, okay?"

"Whatever." Jamia shrugged it off, making her way upstairs without another word.

"What did I do?" Lindsey exclaimed, turning to Frank for sympathy, or well, _anything_ really.

"I can't explain... I... it's complicated." Frank let out a sigh, knowing that 'she's in love with you' wasn't exactly going to get the best response at all. "Really, look, it's nothing, just be nicer to her, okay?"

"I was- _okay_..." Lindsey shrugged it off, exiting the powerpoint and checking MySpace, because spiritually, she was in fact Pete Wentz. "You don't mind me trying to set you up with Gerard, though?"

"God, you can try, I doubt it'll work though, because we won't work: he's Gerard, and he's quick fucks and no feelings, and I want to _date_ him, and... I'm a little fucking pathetic faggot, and he's _Gerard Way_."

"Now what's that supposed to mean, huh?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows, finishing her coffee.

"I'm not important, I'm not pretty, I'm just _Frank_ , whereas Gerard, he's just _amazing_..."

"Frank, do you really think I'd be talking to you right now if you weren't important?" Lindsey asked, getting up from the table. "Look, get yourself ready or whatever: we're going to try our luck with Gerard and Mikey, yeah? I'll go talk to Jamia, apologise or whatever - she'll be fine."

Frank just nodded, remaining seated as Lindsey made her way upstairs after the poor girl that was desperately fucking in love with her.

He grabbed his cellphone, checking his messages: unsure quite how to react in regards to the new one from Gerard, because dear lord, this boy was either going to change his life or ruin it, but Frank hadn't the slightest clue as to which one.

' _I really need you.'_

Frank sighed at the message, and considered just deleting it and pretending that it didn't send properly, because god that would probably be easier than replying to the shit that Gerard had probably texted him whilst high or drunk or something.

_'I want you right now.'_

Another. And Frank's heart practically fell from his chest and onto Jamia Nestor's kitchen floor as he read the message.

' _Good morning_.'

Frank went for the generic response, or basically, just the first thing he could come up with that wouldn't kill him instantly.

_'Come over.'_

And Gerard continued to make it evident that he wasn't going to bother with being discreet about this one.

_'I'm so hard over you. I think about you all the time.'_

And Frank's sanity was catapulted out of the nearest window, feeling a certain unwanted tightness in his jeans as he genuinely considered jacking off Jamia's fucking kitchen, but _no_ , he could make it to the toilet first, he totally could, and he totally _would_.

_'What do you think about?'_

Frank sent the message as he locked the toilet door behind himself, throwing his body back against the wall and letting his jeans bunch up at his knees as he held his cellphone in one hand and his dick in the other.

_'Fucking you so hard that you can't walk properly for days, mostly. Sometimes I just tease you because you want it and we both know that_. _'_

Frank's breaths were heavy and hitched against the bathroom wall, his hand moving faster than ever before as he struggled to tap out a one handed a reply.

_'Please_.'

It was simple, but it was enough, and Frank's head was hardly in an eloquent frame of mind right now.

_'You're getting off right now, aren't you_?'

Frank jolted a little into his hand at that: he was close, and Gerard was fucking driving him crazy here.

_'Yes_.'

And then silence: nothing. Just the little 'read' message at the bottom, leaving Frank alone and short of breath with his own hand for entirely too long.

_'Come for me_.'

And within seconds, without any second thought, Frank did: his head slamming back against the wall, as he struggled to place his phone safely on the shelf on the side.

He met his own reflection in the mirror; he was fucking ruined and he knew it, and he'd just jacked off in somebody else's house, but Frank couldn't care at all.

He grinned at his reflection, cleaning himself up and pulling up his jeans, before turning back to his cellphone and reading the one new message, from Gerard, of course.

' _Fuck, you're amazing.'_

And a cute little heart emoji, that was totally uncharacteristic of Gerard, but kept a smile securely upon Frank's face for hours afterwards.

-

"Gerard, you should do something with your life for once, you know?" Mrs Way's suggestion went amiss as Gerard stumbled into the kitchen at twelve noon, only having dressed himself ten minutes prior.

"Mhmm." Gerard shrugged it off, not really having paid all that much attention to what his mother had been saying in the first place.

"You could start by actually listening to me when I'm talking to you." She suggested, turning to face Gerard as he began to make himself a coffee. "And stop drinking twelve cups of coffee everyday, how about that?"

"I'd die without coffee." Gerard's statement was heartfelt, and well, kind of true, but Mrs Way didn't seem to think so at all.

"I doubt it, honey, I really do." She turned back to her cooking. "This is lunch, you know, and you got up like ten minutes ago."

"I woke up hours ago, I just didn't get out of bed." Gerard rolled his eyes, grabbing his cup of coffee, and burning his mouth on it, but drinking it regardless because he was metal as fuck.

"And what on earth were you doing in bed for hours?"

"I don't know." Gerard shook his head, making his way towards the kitchen door with a grin; his answer was unimaginative, but he reckoned he really could _not_ get away with telling the truth, which was 'I was too busy jacking off over this fucking boy called Frank, who might actually be perfect' wasn't exactly the best thing to tell your mother whilst she was making lunch, or any time at all, for that matter.

"Gerard?" Mikey addressed his brother as he made his way into the living room, taking a seat besides the seventeen year old on the sofa: Mikey was watching Star Wars - what was new?

"Yeah?" Gerard asked, his eyes ignoring Mikey in favour of Star Wars, because okay, Gerard was a massive nerd - what was new?

"What's going on with you and Frank?" And at that, Gerard nearly spilt his fucking coffee all over himself, but at that point, he was most _definitely_ giving Mikey his full attention.

"What do you mean?" Gerard asked, playing the innocent card, which may or may not have been slightly ruined by his previous minor heart attack at the mere mention of Frank's name.

"What do you _think_ I mean?" Mikey rolled his eyes, putting Star Wars on pause, and turning to face Gerard properly. "You talking to him the other day? Everything, I mean, you're not quite as discreet as you think you are."

"So what do you think's going on?" Gerard asked, biting his lip, because fuck, he was most definitely blushing like a fucking idiot right now: there wasn't one single question about that.

"You're fucking him." Mikey decided to be blunt, and well, Gerard was just forever grateful that their mother couldn't hear them from the kitchen.

"I haven't fucked him, not even _once_." And Gerard wasn't even lying: it wasn't like Mikey had mentioned anything about sexting, was it?

"You're letting yourself go, Gerard." Mikey snorted, shaking his head at his brother. "Try to fuck someone _other_ than my best friend, though, _please_."

"I thought you were 'the mysterious Mikey Way: too cool for friends, too cool for _anyone_ '?" Gerard raised his eyebrows, laughing a little as Mikey gave him a gentle slap that he kind of really did deserve.

"Frank's alright: he's a nice guy, and he's not weird, he's the person I can tolerate the most, so therefore he's automatically my best friend. Ray's alright too, but we don't tend to speak, and _Pete_ , goddamn, Pete makes me want to shoot myself, Gerard."

"Slight overreaction?" 

"No, I'm deadly fucking serious: he's like _obsessed_ with me, it's just kind of _creepy_ , goddamn, I just- how can I be like stop it, please, you're creeping me out, I'm not that great?" Mikey whined, leaning his head onto his brother's shoulder.

"He's just got a crush on you: it's cute." Gerard giggled, and he totally deserved that slap too, even if his bruised arm was starting to disagree.

"Whatever, I _don't_ like him-"

"Have you even spoken to him?" Gerard wasn't convinced at all, and well, it was just anything to piss Mikey off, because he was a nice caring brother like that.

"No, but-"

"Ha, there you go, motherfucker!" Gerard pointed enthusiastically at Mikey. "Talk to him, give him a chance: maybe he's just nervous, maybe he's just an awkward fucker like you, come on, look me in the eye and tell me he's _ugly_."

"He's not ugly, okay, but he's not _cute_ either!" Mikey protested, but Gerard wasn't having any of it whatsoever.

"At least I can accept when I have a crush, Mikey."

" _Crush_? It's a crush, is it? It's not- not a 'fuck' thing... this is a _thing_ thing?" Mikey stared at his brother in disbelief.

Gerard blushed, not having given his words much thought before they'd slipped out. "I guess."

-

Mikey was tall, in fact, Mikey was fucking lanky and fucking tall, and perhaps the sole advantage of that was getting away with buying cigarettes when the cashier was too tired to ask for I.D., and Mikey was most certainly ensuring he used these 'powers' to their full extent in the new town where no one had to know that the tall, lanky guy in the joy division shirt was actually only seventeen.

He exited the small off license situated on the street corner with a packet of cigarettes in his hand, stopping outside to fumble with opening the packet, placing one in his mouth, placing the packet into his pocket, retrieving his lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette in his mouth, putting the lighter back in his pocket, and finally taking the cigarette into his fingers as he exhaled.

It sounded far more complicated than it was, and well, Mikey had practiced the ordeal near enough every day of his life.

"How can you buy them when you're underage? Are you like in some secret gang or something and you have the shopkeeper's owner held hostage, so they're forced to sell you the cigarettes, despite the fact that you're seventeen?"

Mikey looked up, and shook his head immediately, because who else could he possibly have been expecting, _other_ than Pete Wentz.

"No." Mikey took another drag of the cigarette he shouldn't legally have just bought. "I just look older than I am, and a lot of the time, they don't give enough of a shit to check."

" _Cool_!" Pete exclaimed, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull, because Pete Wentz literally could not handle Mikey Way's existence, and you know what? Same, to be honest. "Can you buy me cigarettes?"

"Pete, you don't even smoke..." Mikey trailed off, his face contorting into an expression of confusion, but Pete's grin never faltered, and Mikey began to wonder whether this emo lump in front of him was actually human at all.

"I just want to see you do it, it's so cool- buy me something, Mikey Way!" Pete exclaimed, like a fucking three year old child.

"I'll buy you some baby food, because you're acting like a fucking toddler right now." Mikey rolled his eyes, leaving Pete to look personally offended, and indeed resorted to flipping Mikey off.

"Buy me something, please, I'm broke as fuck." Pete pleaded, his tone taking a more serious tone, but it was Pete, so, well, you weren't exactly getting anything meaningful by far. "Please, I'll kiss you if you do."

"As if I needed any more motivation _not_ to." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning away from Pete. "I'm not your fucking sugar daddy, Pete, buy yourself something." And with that, the seventeen year old made his way down the road, but the fucking opposite way to his house, because there was no way he was going to let Pete know where he lived.

And perhaps Pete just couldn't take the hint, as he found trailed after Mikey within seconds.

"Maybe you could be my sugar daddy." Pete suggested, all puppy dog eyes, and Mikey considered whether just punching the guy in the face was a viable option here.

"Pete, please stop flirting with me- I... I don't _like_ you, I'm sorry, but I don't-"

"Oh you think I'm _flirting_ with you?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening as he began to gesture wildly with his hands. "Don't get so big headed, Mikey Way. I'm far too cool for you, you know that."

"Sure." Mikey narrowed his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette, reckoning that dying of lung cancer would be more enjoyable than continuing to engage in conversation with Pete Wentz.

"Does this mean you're a flaming homosexual then?" Pete's face lit up moments later. "Because there was a suspicious lack of no homo in that sentence."

"I'm asexual, if you must know." Mikey stopped for a moment, bracing himself for the 'are you a plant?' and the 'what the fuck is that?' comments, because those were always great fun.

"I'm bi." Pete added, pausing for a moment, and meeting Mikey's gaze as he did so. "Asexual's the one where you don't want to fuck _anybody_ isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Mikey nodded.

"I would actually die." Pete confessed, hand on his motherfucking heart. "So, wait, do you not like want to date anybody _ever_?"

"That's a different thing, that's aromantic - asexual and aromantic are too different things, and sexual and romantic attractions don't always match up, okay? So, I'm asexual and homoromantic."

"So you want to date dudes, but not fuck them, or get fucked, or anything, like you just want to kiss and hold hands and be cute?" Pete was showing an actual interest in not being an uneducated little prick, which was a pleasant surprise for Mikey, to say the least.

"Yeah, pretty much. I just don't experience sexual attraction, it's like I want to kiss and cuddle you really damn hard, but no fucking, please." And Mikey was sort of losing himself in actually getting to talk openly about his sexuality to someone that actual gave a fuck for once. 

"So, you don't ever get hard?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening tremendously. "Or like jack off?"

"Not like... I get morning wood, and well, sometimes it does just happen, but I don't get hard over people... and sometimes you're hard and you have to just to make it go away, but like, it's not a recreational activity or anything, I don't know - it's different for different people as well." Mikey paused, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out with his shoe. "It's like a spectrum, as well, so like, people experience it on varying degrees."

"I've never really thought this much about sexuality." Pete admitted, walking just a little closer to Mikey. "It was always just like, yeah, Lindsey Ballato's hot, and fuck, her boyfriend's hot too... okay, I'm bi."

"Gerard, my brother, he's pansexual, he had this big self discovery hippie phase a few years ago, and it was like constantly in my ear: I couldn't help but pick some of it up and actually look into it, I mean, fucking hell, this is important, because there was once a time that I thought I was heterosexual, like damn, _no_."

"Have you ever actually, like... like... _like_..." Pete's cheeks flushed pink.

"Fucked anyone?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, and Pete nodded, his face still bearing resemblance to a sunburnt tomato. "No, I mean, I've never wanted to. I just kind of _know_. I gave this guy a blowjob, though, once, like last year, and I was kind of drunk... it was _weird_."

"You don't like blowjobs?" Mikey shook his head. "There's no fucking way we can be friends."

And as Pete Wentz made Mikey Way laugh, the whole fucking world fell apart.

-


	7. And Then What?;)

It wasn't a _crush_ , per say, but Gerard had been forced into doing the washing up by his mother, and he was _smiling_ \- needless to say, he was thinking about Frank.

But it wasn't a _crush_ , because he wasn't thinking about Frank smiling or being ' _cute_ ' or anything else sufficiently pathetic; Gerard was thinking about Frank Iero fucking _coming_ all over himself while thinking of him.

It wasn't a _crush_.

It was an affliction, _lust_ , or something, because those were the feelings Gerard had, and not, fucking _pathetic_ ones.

He didn't even get all fucking gooey over Bert, or at least when they were dating, even with the four fucking year relationship, he could never quite achieve head over heels love, but there was no denying the fact that his heart was beating a little faster as he stood washing the plates.

However, he still wasn't entirely sure as to whether that was do with some bullshit lovey chemical in his brain, or just the extra blood needed in his dick right now, because _fuck_ , Frank Iero coming was _hot_ , and Gerard needed to finish the washing up right the fuck now so he could go and jack off for at least twelve years, which was a great idea in Gerard's mind, after all, it wasn't the only _amazing_ idea of Gerard's that lasted twelve years, was it?

The nineteen year old cursed his mother for not just buying a _goddamn_ dishwasher, like he chimed in with a haven't you people ever heard of buying a goddamn _dishwasher_? However both Mikey and his mum were out, and that was exactly why he'd been lumped with dishwashing duty, so they didn't hear him, which was probably a good thing, but whatever.

Gerard finished a few more dishes, before going 'fuck it' because he was nineteen and super mature and why the fuck would his mum possibly insist that he actually helped around the house for once in his life? Like oh my god, _so_ unfair! 

However, by the very moment he had his bedroom door locked behind him, Gerard was thinking about a whole lot more than the washing up and his _mother_ , Jesus Christ he _definitely_ was _not_ thinking about his mother as he fell back against his bed and shrugged his jeans off, cursing them for being fucking _skin tight_ , and then later cursing emo culture for making him even want to wear this shit, but he looked _good_ in skinny jeans and everyone fucking _knew_ it.

With the jeans off and lying in a heap on the floor, he soon had his right hand around his dick, already half hard, because _insane_ thoughts of Frank Iero did that to a guy, _fuck_ , he- Frank didn't even know what was happening right now as Gerard bucked his hips up into his head - _so_ fucking close and he'd barely even started yet; he'd be ashamed, if he was anything but incredibly fucking turned on right now.

He let out a strained moan, fisting the sheets with his left hand as all kinds of thoughts flooded his head, and _fuck_ , Frank, Frank _needed_ to know he was thinking about him like this, because this wasn't something Gerard did for everyone, and goddamn, Gerard needed to _fuck_ that guy and he needed to _fuck_ him right _now_.

And that was exactly how Gerard found his cellphone on the pillow beside him, on speakerphone and dialling Frank, but never fast enough as Gerard attempted to slow the movement of his hand, just in the hopes of lasting long enough for Frank to at least _pick up_ , because _fuck_ \- but _fuck_ , he needed this, and he seriously reckoned he hadn't been _this_ turned on in forever, and surely that meant something, but Gerard wasn't exactly in the position to contemplate the meaning of his entire fucking life right now.

"Hello? Gerard?" And that fucking _voice_. Fuck. Gerard found himself responding with nothing more than a choked, half muffled, _desperate_ kind of moan. "Are you- okay? Ge- oh my _god_ , you- you, you're _not_ , I-"

"Touching myself just thinking about you, Frankie." He managed to force the words out, gripping himself a little tighter as he did so, and really neither of the two could have expected the kind of moan that came from Gerard's lips as he did so.

"Fuck- Gerard- I... I have to go and meet Lindsey in like two minutes- I-"

"No, no you _don't_ , fucking listen to me: you're gonna get the fuck back into bed and you're gonna get your hand around yourself and you're going to let me tell you everything I want to do to you right now."

Gerard pulled his hand away from himself with a great deal of reluctance, biting down on his bottom lip just to hold out a little longer as he listened intently to the sounds of Frank shuffling around in his room, and then a _zipper_ , a fucking _zipper,_ and _fuck_.

"I-I... I'm... _yeah_..." Frank's words were strangled, his voice lowered and Gerard couldn't help but wonder if his fucking mum was in the next room, oblivious to her little innocent saint of a son getting off with another man.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, Frankie, so bad, all I could think about this morning, fucking _you,_ and the way you moan - I wanna make you moan like that." And almost as if on cue, Frank was moaning like _fucking hell_ itself. "I wanna get you naked and fucking on your knees, I wanna spread you apart, I wanna fucking tease you _forever_ , I would if I could, but goddamn, I couldn't last that long just looking at your pretty little ass, and- I'd finger you, and you'd look so pretty press back against me, because you're such a _slut_ for me, Frankie, but _no_ , I wouldn't let you, I'd throw you back down onto your hands and knees, and grip your hips so fucking tight that they ache for days as I _fuck_ you so hard and so _deep_ into the fucking mattress: your prostate again, and again, _every_ time and you're going be screaming for me to let you come, but I'm not gonna let you until I've filled your fucking ass with my come, and then I fuck you once more with everything I've got and _then_ , _then_ you're going to come so fucking hard-"

And almost like fucking magic, Frank did.

"Did I say you could come?" Gerard snapped, his breathing heavy as he imagined Frank spread out there with his own come all over his chest, and within seconds, he found himself in much the same state. " _Fuck._ "

"Did I say _you_ could come?" Frank asked, chuckling a little, and if Gerard was there he knew like fuck that he would have fucking _slapped_ him, or _wait_...

"I'm gonna spank the fuck out of you if you don't shut up."

"And then what?" And Gerard could hear the wink in Frank's voice.

-

Mikey wasn't exactly sure what it was about Pete, but there was most definitely _something_ , and there was most definitely _something_ in Mikey too that ensured Pete hadn't been fucking _punched_ yet.

The two were sat in the park, Pete having managed to sit cross legged on a swing, and Mikey sat normally on the one beside him, waiting for the inevitable moment when Pete fell the fuck off that thing and cracked his skull open, but Pete didn't seem all that concerned for his own safety at all.

"Do you _ever_ stop smoking?" Pete asked, watching as Mikey lit what was probably his _fifth_ cigarette. "You have an increased risk of lung cancer, you know?"

"Really, no one has ever told me!" Mikey exclaimed in a half-hearted sarcastic sort of manner.

"I did, just now." Pete watched as Mikey put the cigarette to his lips and exhaled with very little care.

"I was being sarcastic, you idiot." Mikey couldn't help but let his lips crack into a small smile as he turned back to face Pete, who was looking at him with an unplaceable, just... _odd_ kind of expression.

"Oh." Pete found himself just sat there, kind of awkwardly returning Mikey's smile, but happily doing so. "Are you still going to smoke even though it's bad for you?"

"Yes." Mikey uttered with a kind of sincerity that made the both of them laugh.

"Why?"

"I... actually kind of don't know." Mikey admitted, brushing his hair away from his face. "It's just a _thing_ , I'm just... I guess I kind of picked it up from my brother, he smokes a lot, and my mum smokes too, but I guess I smoke the _most_ , like I spend all day smoking, Gerard spends all day jacking off or fucking or whatever, and my mum spends the whole... fuck I don't even know what my mum does, nagging the both of us, probably."

"Has your brother ever considered a career in prostitution?" Pete asked, and it was kind of a genuine question.

"I'd say he has far too much self respect, or well, far too big an ego for that." Mikey laughed it off, brushing off the fact that Pete Wentz was continuing to make him laugh for the millionth time, because okay, maybe they kind of were friends at this point, but... _but_... but... _fuck._ "But I'll definitely suggest it as an option. My mum's been nagging at him just to get a fucking job for weeks now, like I'm sure she imagined some kind of grocery store clerk kind of thing as opposed to hooker, but, we'll see."

"Do you still hate me?" Pete kind of burst out with the question, catching Mikey just a little by surprise as he did so.

"No, I... I don't know, I just... I got the wrong impression of you, maybe... you're kind of _awkward_ around people, new people, all people actually, and I just thought you were being a creep, or something." Mikey paused for a moment, trying his best not to upset Pete. "No offense or... I... I consider you my friend now, anyway, so it's-"

"I'm autistic." Pete let out a sigh, looking _anywhere_ but Mikey, because his reaction was something that Pete could not face. "Asperger’s. It's... not important, I don't usually tell people, well _anyone_ , but you actually pointed it out and asked."

"Oh my god, fucking way to make me feel like a douche." Mikey exclaimed, grabbing Pete's hand in an effort to gain his attention once more, or just to get the fucking guy to _look_ at him, however it didn't exactly go as well as expected.

Pete jumped, and Pete jumped like fucking hell _itself_ , and fell the fuck off the swing. He fell onto the weird soft thing they put underneath the swings at least, so Mikey didn't have to drag his ass to the hospital or something, but he didn't look particularly happy about it.

"Ow... I..." Pete looked up at Mikey: at least he'd landed on his butt, _but_ , still, it fucking _hurt_. "Sorry."

"Why the fuck are you apologising to me?" Mikey shook his head and put his cigarette between his lips as he got up to help Pete to his feet.

"I made you feel like a douche." Pete explained, blushing a little.

"And I made you fall off a swing." Mikey put his cigarette between his fingers, laughing and shaking his head a little. "You alright, for serious?"

"Yeah, I'm, my butt hurts, but otherwise, I'd say I'm alright."

"Good, do you want to like sit down, somewhere, you _can't_ fall off of?" Mikey asked, smirking a little. "The bench or something?"

"But that's so hard, my butt's going to kill me, I-"

"Sit on my lap." Mikey grinned, taking a drag of his cigarette. "We just have to hope that doesn't get hard, otherwise your butt is going to be in a whole new kind of trouble."

" _Mikey-_ " Pete protested, wide eyed and not entirely sure as to whether Mikey was being entirely serious or not, but before he knew what was happening, Mikey was dragging him over to the bench and sitting him down on his lap.

"Better?" He asked, holding his cigarette out in his hand away for Pete.

"I should fall off swings and hurt my butt more often."

Mikey grinned, blushing just a little, but goddamn, this _wasn't_ a crush, this was... honestly, Mikey didn't have a fucking _clue_ what this was.

And perhaps he was just as hopeless as his brother when it came to crushes and feelings, _almost_.

-

"You have an awful habit of being late, Frank Iero." Lindsey smiled at Frank as he approached her, sat in the park, on the swings, as usual.

"I thought Jamia was coming." Frank raised an eyebrow at the empty swings beside her, and then that one swing that looked like it had been upturned and someone had, well, fallen off it or something else equally as ridiculous.

"She's being weird with me." Lindsey shrugged it off, in much the same manner that Frank had shrugged off her comment about being late, so really, they were kind of even at that point. "I think it's to do with her being single, and-"

"Lindsey, trust me, just leave it, just leave her be... she'll tell you eventually, or at least I fucking hope she does, because it's going to drive both me and her insane otherwise." Frank cracked a smile as he took a seat in the swing beside her.

"It's fucking frustrating, though, because everyone knows that I tell Jamia _everything_ and I would tell her it all without a fucking moment's thought, but..." Lindsey stopped, the swing coming to halt as she began to kick the dirt below with her feet. "I don't get it - I just _don't_ , and I think that's that."

"She'll tell you eventually." Frank added after a moment, cringing a little as he received a text message, because it was either going to be from his mum, or... _Gerard_ , and well... either would be terrible with Lindsey around.

"Who's that from?" And of course, Lindsey _had_ to ask, didn't she?

"G-Gerard."

_'We need to fuck for real at some point, before I go crazy.'_

And an 'x' that was so fucking out of place that it almost seemed lost amongst a message that _Gerard Way_ had sent.

"Ooh, what does it say, come on, tell me." Lindsey demanded, and well, if there was ever a moment for promptly dying on the spot, it was now.

"It's private- I-"

But Lindsey was snatching the phone from his hand before Frank could protest, and a face of shock turned into one of intrigue as Lindsey scrolled up and fucking threw the phone back at Frank.

"Oh my god, you're getting laid, Frank, you're getting _laid_ , Jesus Christ, why didn't you tell me before?" Lindsey exclaimed, almost genuinely excited for him, which was kind of weird, to say the least.

"It's kind of not your business, Lindsey." Frank blushed, texting Gerard back with a quick, _'I can't talk right now sorry'_ , because Lindsey had totally ensured that the message flagged up as red and Frank just couldn't deal with Gerard getting bitching about him now replying or anything.

"Whatever, Frank, I don't get you sometimes, you know? I really don't..."

Frank wasn't listening, but it wasn't like it even mattered, as Pete Wentz and _Mikey Way_ appeared from seemingly nowhere, and Lindsey had something other than Frank to occupy her time with.

Sure, Frank liked Lindsey, but Lindsey wasn't exactly a fucking saint, and Lindsey wasn't exactly the person you'd trust, and well, Frank could deal with that, at least for the most part, however Jamia couldn't, as she'd done nothing but put the devil up in heaven and forced herself to deal with the consequences.

Of course, nothing was Jamia's fault, nothing was _anybody's_ fault, but Frank watched as Lindsey called the two over, and he reckoned that he could totally start sexting Gerard right then and right there, _if_ Mikey just didn't happen to be Gerard's brother, because that totally fucking ruined that idea for Frank.

"Hey Mikey Way." She smiled up at him, twirling her hair a little, and Frank just wanted to punch her or somebody, and he looked up at Pete, and came to the blatant and shocking realisation that Mikey Way and Pete Wentz were hanging out together and by _choice_ , and damn, there was no denying the fact that Pete looked awfully fucking proud of himself.

Frank didn't say anything, because it wasn't his place and he reckoned that from the side glance Mikey gave him, he respected that.

Mikey found himself ripped away in small talk with Lindsey Ballato, and Pete Wentz just standing there, _awkwardly_ , kind of _jealously_ watching, and Frank went fuck it to his entire life and got up, gesturing for Pete to follow him as the two made their way over to the grass a couple of metres away from the swings and sat down.

"Jamia's not here, so I guess it's my job to apologise for Lindsey Ballato's existence today- good god, am I the _back up Jamia_?" Frank exclaimed, finding himself thrown into shock with the sudden realisation as he followed Pete's gaze back to Mikey. "What's the deal with you and Mikey then?"

"I don't know." Pete laughed a little, stopping himself from staring before Mikey could fucking _notice_.

"At least you two are talking now." Frank added, meeting Pete's gaze with something like a smile, because okay, Pete could most definitely be annoying at times, but he still didn't _hate_ the guy.

"He's amazing, he's super lovely." Pete confessed before he could stop himself, and was blushing a horrible shade of red when he came to realise just what he'd done. "I just need to tell someone, sorry."

"How about you tell _him_?" Frank suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips; Lindsey most definitely wouldn't like that, but any deterrent from her attraction towards Mikey would leave Jamia fucking over the moon.

And Frank felt sorry for Jamia more often than not, and he strived to fix that, because she most certainly didn't fucking deserve it, and he didn't reckon that Lindsey meant it either, but... people could make a real mess of the world around them if they simply neglected explaining and confessing what the fuck was going on in their heads.

"I can't, I... I... _can't_." Pete shook his head firmly, blushing at the mere notion of it.

"You can do _anything_ , Pete Wentz, you fucking hear me?" Frank grinned, glancing down at his cellphone again, because fucking hell, Gerard just didn’t understand 'not now', did he?

"Are you going to tell him?" 

And Frank jumped like fuck as he realised Pete was reading the messages over his shoulder.

"I... I reckon he already knows, if I'm honest."

"But you didn't like tell him _upfront_?"

"No, he just sort of... we just sort of... things just worked out, I guess."

"Do you think Mikey will just sort of work things out?"

Frank looked up and across at Mikey, and the way he smiled at Lindsey, and how his heart was plummeting for Pete. "No, Mikey's fucking _stupid_ and stubborn and arrogant and weirdly full of himself, you're going to have to tell him."

"I thought you liked him? Why are you saying that about him?"

"I do. Everyone has flaws, and you can't help but pick up on them, but you accept them, and you look past them, don't you?"

Pete looked back at Mikey and nodded.

-


	8. The Story Of How Gerard Way Died

If Gerard knew anything, it was that he most certainly wasn't doing the washing up again, and perhaps even this was a better alternative.

And _this_ was making conversation with Mikey about something they vowed that they'd never mention, because these were the stupid feelings that plagued their hearts and minds and meant everything but nothing at all, and regardless of their significance or otherwise, where just absolutely impossible to ignore.

Because whatever this was with Frank, because it was _something_ , because it had lasted long than a week, it had nothing to do with Bert McCracken, and still Gerard was interested, and that was absolutely out of the ordinary for him. Sure, it didn't sound like anything much, but Gerard was pretty damn special and perhaps not in the best way.

And of course, it wasn't like Mikey was particularly happy to admit the way he felt about Pete either, and they were both very much in the same boat here, but of course, always just as reluctant to admit it, or even to admit to anything at all.

The two were sat at the kitchen table, meeting one another's gaze in a pathetic attempt to ignore the pile of washing up they'd been tasked with sorting out, because they were going to be realistic here and admit that the likelihood of the washing up actually getting done was just about as likely as either brother getting himself together enough to sort out the feud between his head and his heart.

But dancing in thought around the notion was most definitely an easy alternative with which to waste away time totally _not_ thinking any homosexual thoughts at all, because, of course, no homo was the motto that the Way brothers lived by everyday of their lives.

The two jumped a little as the screen of Gerard’s cellphone, laid on the table in front of him, lit up, displaying a text message, and of course not _just_ a text message.

It was the first text message in weeks now, and from one single glance at the contact name, Mikey already knew what this was.

And Gerard did too, even if he was just a little more reluctant to admit it.

The contact name in question, being, of course, _'Bert_ '.

The message was illuminated on the screen for a painful thirty seconds, before the screen faded to black, and Mikey turned to face his brother with a raise of his eyebrows. "Don't you fucking dare fuck up your life again, you hear me?"

"M-Mikey..." Gerard stumbled out, perhaps even just a little taken aback at the fact that Mikey had even spoken up, having anticipated a prolonged silence, lasting perhaps even as long as it would take Mrs Way to come home and shout at them about the washing up still remaining untouched, but perhaps Mikey was just a little saner than Gerard thought he was.

"Don't reply to that douchebag, and don't you fucking _dare_ get back with him." Mikey snapped, gesturing to Gerard's phone as he spoke, and of course meaning Bert, and not the phone itself, because that would be pretty damn ridiculous indeed.

"I'm not- I..." Gerard let out a sigh, grabbing his phone from where it lay, and turned the screen on, letting his eyes glance over the message, before putting it back down again, because he reckoned Mikey might fucking _smash_ it if he didn't.

_'I miss you. I'm sorry. I love you._ '

And more kisses than Gerard deserved, but just enough to sink his heart right back down into the depths of the motherfucking ocean, because he was getting okay again, but now Bert was back, and now everything was back, and his head was fucking on _fire_.

"I'd rather you _fucked_ Frank than ever talked to him again." And Gerard didn't doubt that Mikey meant that one little bit.

"I'm not going to reply." Gerard added, blushing a little, not quite wanting to meet Mikey's gaze.

"Good."

"Do you mean that?" He asked a few moments later.

"Of course I do - why the fuck would I say it if I didn't mean it, Gerard?" Mikey sighed out, shaking his head a little, catching sight of the washing up on the side as he pulled his gaze back to face Gerard's, and wincing a little as he did so, because there was most definitely more of it than when he'd last looked; it was like there was sentient bacterial life growing and multiplying in the corner of his kitchen, and with how long it had been there now, Mikey didn't exactly doubt it all that much.

"So, what _would_ you say if I did fuck Frank?" Gerard asked, stretching his legs out under the table and putting them up on the chair opposite, gaining a little raise of eyebrow from Mikey, who was just taking a silent minute to comprehend what Gerard had just fucking _said_.

"You're thinking of fucking Frank?" Mikey asked, almost praying that he hadn't heard Gerard right, because dear god, he hadn't really wanted this at all, and dear god, Gerard had to be joking here, hadn't he?

"Well _no_ , me and Frank are thinking of fucking, and yes that's different, because it's a mutual thing and I'm not some asshole who keeps praying on your friends and fucking them; Frank likes me too." Gerard let out a sigh, his cheeks burning up a little at the thought of Frank, and dear god he was going soft or something, and he didn't particularly want to entertain the possibility, but if Mikey was going to give him the green light when it came to Frank Iero, he would most certainly put himself through this.

"So if I say, yeah, I don't mind that you and Frank fuck, then you promise me you won't get back with Bert again, like block him or something, because if it really is a matter of Bert _or_ Frank, then I'm going to say Frank without a moment's thought, because hey, Frank _is_ my best friend, but Frank isn't a manipulative douchebag-"

"Neither's Bert..." Gerard began, cutting himself halfway through the sentence, paused in thought for a moment.

"Fucking look me in the eyes, Gerard, and say that again, because you don't believe it nearly as much as you want me to." Mikey shook his head, glancing again at Gerard, and then the fucking _washing up_ , and then back at Gerard.

"Fine, he's not part of my life anymore." Gerard shrugged it off, grabbing his phone and deleting the messages from Bert, then even holding it up to Mikey to prove his point. "Anyway, how are things with you and Pete?"

"He's not- it's not like that!" Mikey stammered out, his cheeks burning up into a fucking horrific shade of crimson.

" _Mikey-_ "

"It's not-"

"Hey, if you do the washing up, I promise I won't mention it again." Gerard suggested, leaning back in his chair and smirking, as Mikey got to his feet without a fucking moment of thought.

_"Deal."_

_-_

This was Lindsey's idea, as things often were, and in turn, it was Lindsey's fault that she was sat in the corner of some shitty half party, half drug deal, watching as the most beautiful girl in the world flirted with millions of fuckboys, who quite frankly couldn't even dream of being worth her time.

And in most cases, Lindsey knew that too, but Lindsey loved leading boys on, and Jamia knew that the absolute worst person to fall in love with was the one who played with hearts like it was a sport, a hobby, even, but still Jamia did.

Quite honestly, Lindsey was easily the _worst_ person for Jamia to fall for; she was straight, she had serious commitment issues, she was chasing after Mikey Way as of this week, she was her best and only friend, she probably wouldn't react well to homosexuality when it was directed at her, she was blind as fuck when it came to feelings, and she was the most annoying girl in the world.

But still, in Jamia's jaded eyes, she was the Aphrodite of not even just this town, but this universe, and Jamia was fucking _stricken_ , in fact, more like hit in the face with a baseball bat.

And she had a million better things to do with a Saturday afternoon than watch a girl from the corner of a room that faintly smelled of weed; a room full of people she didn’t know and didn't care for, except the one - Lindsey Ballato.

She was the pivotal point of this room, the world, the universe, Jamia's existence, _anything_ , and this was getting seriously pathetic, and close to destroy Jamia from the inside out, but she let it, like she let Lindsey do what she liked, because the girl was beautiful, and Jamia was a sucker, a _sucker_ for beautiful girls.

And of course, getting out of the closet, and over Lindsey, and on with her life was just daunting when she could sit her comfortably for another fifteen minutes at least as Lindsey flirted with a boy that neither of the two girls knew the name of.

At least Jamia had reassurance in the fact that she wasn't going to sleep with that guy or _anyone_ at this party, because she was absolutely fucking _deadset_ on Mikey way, and Jamia didn't know whether to be jealous or feel sorry for him.

She'd already tried texting Frank to waste away the minutes, and perhaps for just a little moral booster, but with the fact that he hadn't even _seen_ the messages, Jamia could easily assume that he was either dead or with Gerard, and well, in her mind, the two were practically the same thing.

But, hey, at the very least, Frank was having some luck in his romantic endeavours, and Jamia had to envious of that, because here she was, after months of pining over some stupidly beautiful, fucking _stupid_ girl, she was still sat in the corner of the room watching from afar.

Because not only was she _not_ Lindsey's girlfriend, she wasn't Lindsey's _best friend_ , either.

Sure, Lindsey was _her_ best friend, but it wasn’t a mutual thing, as Jamia knew like she knew that she was fucked, that Lindsey would give that title to a poor, unsuspecting, sort of overwhelmed Frank Iero.

And sure, Jamia loved Frank, who was most certainly a nicer friend than Lindsey would ever be, but she couldn't quite see what was all that special about him. But then again, Lindsey was doing that weird straight girl thing where they seem to think gay guys are like accessories or something, but of course, that couldn't possibly apply to lesbians, because fuck, Jamia would let Lindsey objectify her or whatever, fuck, she didn't care, she just wanted-

_Something_.

Perhaps even just a way out of this mess, but she didn't get quite as long to have an existential crisis as she would have liked, before Lindsey made her way back across the room, grinning at her as she held a bag of cocaine in her hand.

That was Lindsey's 'stupid idea' grin, and Jamia knew it well, but even after the millionth time, she was still absolutely in no way prepared for what Lindsey could possibly be about to suggest with a bag of cocaine held so casually in her hand.

"I have some coke." She gestured towards the bag with her free hand as she approached Jamia, taking a seat beside her on the weird kind of decaying sofa that Jamia had claimed in the corner of the room.

"I can see that." Jamia kept her response kind of empty and devoid of expression, but Lindsey didn’t seem to pick up on it, let alone _care_ , but Jamia was used to this in a fucked up way, she really was.

"So I suggest we get high as fuck and then maybe I'll have the guts to just spring it on Mikey-"

"This is about Mikey Way?" Jamia exclaimed, her heart sinking to her motherfucking knees- in fact, falling straight, well _gay_ , out of her chest and onto the fall, where Lindsey's feet could fucking trample on it. "Why is everything about Mikey Way?"

"I want to fuck him. It's good to have some ambitions in life, you know?" Lindsey gave Jamia a friendly, painfully heterosexual shove, leaving Jamia to groan, and not in the way that she wanted Lindsey to be making her groan.

"He's just a fuckboy - there's nothing special about Mikey Way." Jamia sighed out, repeating those words, or some variation of them for what felt like the millionth time, but of course, still Lindsey couldn't even fathom considering the notion of listening, because it was just Jamia, after all - what could _she_ know?

"He's kind of mysterious and cute, don't you think?" Jamia shook her head. "I don't know, he just seems interesting, he's not like everyone else, you know, because like fucking boys, I've done that a million times before, whereas, Mikey seems just a little harder and far more interesting to get, you know?"

And Jamia was millimetres away from suggesting that Lindsey Ballato tried fucking girls, before the guy Lindsey had been talking to a few minutes prior made his way across the room, standing before Lindsey with that sleazy fuckboy grin that Jamia had seen far too many times for her liking.

"We should get away, you know, you and me." He began, talking to Lindsey like he hadn't even noticed Jamia's presence, and well, Jamia wouldn't be all that surprised if she hadn't.

"I'm with my friend, sorry, fuck off." She gestured to Jamia as some sort of half-hearted form of excuse, and the guy let his gaze fall upon Jamia for a moment, before turning back to Lindsey with an even _sleazier_ grin.

"She can join in too, if you want-"

But he didn't quite get to finish that sentence; the impact of Lindsey's fist against his face finishing it for him.

And Jamia was perhaps even more in love with Lindsey Ballato than she had been before.

"Let's go, come on." Lindsey grabbed Jamia's hand, not knowing just what it did to the poor girl, as the two dashed out of the house.

"That was a good punch, don't you think?" Lindsey grinned as they ran down the front path and onto the road.

"It was amazing, you're amazing."

And Lindsey smiled, bag of coke in one hand, and Jamia's in the other, because they'd ground to a halt now, and Lindsey still hadn't let go.

-

Mikey didn't need telling twice when Gerard had suggested that he might want to give him the house to himself for the afternoon, because with their conversation earlier that day still fresh in Mikey's mind, he had very reasonable suspicions as to just what could possibly going on in his absence, and well, he really just did _not_ want to know.

Gerard had sent two texts, received one reply and six emojis, before he took a shower, even _washing his hair_ and pulling on a shirt so clean that it _had_ to be Mikey's, and as he faced himself in the mirror, he found that he looked an awful lot like he was getting ready to go out on a date, and god, fucking _hell_ no, this wasn't what this was.

Gerard ran a hand back through his head, letting his fringe fall further across his face, and picking at a spot on his face, making it a little more prominent to ensure that he looked just a little less like he was trying too hard.

Because Frank was just coming over and it most certainly wasn't anything more than a hyped up suggestion of sex, and Gerard had just been seeing an awful lot of his right hand lately, and was perhaps just a little too over excited about nothing, because come on, Frank was young and awkward, how 'amazing' was this really going to be?

And the guy was like three feet tall; it wasn't like his dick was particularly going to be anything worth marvelling at, and yet, Gerard was trying, and he didn’t know why, because Frank was fucking messed up, head over heels for him, and well, Gerard could probably get away with not even bothering to put clothes on to answer the door, and Frank would still be begging for everything and anything Gerard suggested.

But Gerard wasn't like that, Gerard was trying, and the more he looked at his reflection in the mirror, the more he began to believe Mikey, and the more he began to believe that there was perhaps just a little more to this than he would ever like to have admitted.

But he didn't have awfully long to ponder upon the flaws of his head and his heart, before the ring of the doorbell resonated throughout the house, and Gerard was making his way down the stairs, almost two at a time, and stopping at the front door, just breathing in and out for a moment or two, putting himself back together, before finally placing his hand upon the door and opening it for Frank.

"Hey." The younger boy was blushing, and he had indeed made just a little more of an effort than he would like to have admitted, which succeeded in making Gerard feel that just a little bit better about himself.

" _Hey_." It also succeeded in ensuring that Gerard stood there like a dummy, just _staring_ at Frank, and those tight jeans and that fucking shirt on him, and dear god, those jeans were so tight that he reckoned he was going to waste his lifetime away just by staring at Frank Iero's ass.

"Are you going to invite me in or what?" Frank asked, noticing Gerard's staring and beginning to smirk, raising his eyebrows a little as he did so. "Or just stare at me forever."

"I'm just thinking about _fucking_ you, Iero, don't you fucking worry." Gerard played it off casually, because yeah, that was casual for Gerard Way. "But come on inside." He stepped aside, gesturing for Frank to make his way into the living room, as Gerard locked the door behind them.

The nineteen year old, however, hadn't particularly expected that Frank would be stood waiting and watching for Gerard to turn back around, before pinning him back against the wall and connecting their lips.

Gerard smirked into the kiss, not having exactly anticipated it, but he most certainly had no intentions of objecting to this at all.

He let his hand fall down Frank's back, settling onto his ass, releasing a little nervous kind of moan from the younger boy as he squeezed a little; Gerard used this moment of shock to his advantage, moving them so that Frank was the one pinned back against the wall this time and with Gerard smirking down at him.

"Fucking beautiful, fucking _hot_ , you're fucking _amazing_." Gerard whispered, breath hot against Frank's neck, before connecting slightly parted lips to pale, tender skin of Frank's collarbone, and releasing a trail of embarrassing little breathy moans as he did so.

" _Yeah_..." Frank moaned, throwing his head back against the wall as Gerard continued to apply more pressure to his neck, only encouraged by every fucking stupid little nervous sound the boy had emitted.

But eventually things had to move on, Gerard pulling his lips away as his mind lit up with the prospect of another better idea, because ideas, they were Gerard Way's speciality, after all.

"We're here for real now, aren't we, Frankie?" He began, watching as the sixteen nodded, nerves practically radiating off of him. "So what am I going to do to you like this? Because there's a lot I'd love to, but I couldn't possibly decide, so, I'll leave that to you, huh?"

Frank blushed, grabbing Gerard by his shirt at the shoulder, "I-I-... f- _fuck me_... please..." Frank trailed his gaze back up to meet Gerard's once more, the older boy moments away from fucking losing it, and by that, _laughing_ at Frank.

" _Please_?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "Did mummy tell you to always remember your manners when you're about to be fucked?"

And Gerard thought he had this one, fucking thought he had Frank all figured out, but then with a moment or two of reflecting over his life and existence so far, Frank pushed his dignity aside for obscenity and the way Gerard looked when he _wanted_ him.

"No, but _daddy_ did."

And that was the story of how Gerard Way died.

-


	9. Memes And Emotional Trauma

Come something like two in the morning, and Frank was something like asleep and Gerard was something like drunk, and something like _something_ had happened between the two of them mere hours before.

Explaining to his mother and _brother_ just what Frank Iero was doing in his bed was a hurdle Gerard had settled upon facing in the morning, and two am Gerard knew himself well enough to know that nine am Gerard would hate him for a decision like that.

Two am Gerard was stupid, stupid enough to think that Frank was actually asleep and that he could get away like this, just _stopping_ himself, time and time again, because Gerard had _laughed_ at Frank for calling him 'daddy', okay, perhaps it was a joke, perhaps it wasn't, but Gerard had laughed, and Frank had lost all confidence and they'd ended up sitting there fully clothed and kissing perhaps once or twice as Star Wars played on in the background.

" _Fuck_..." Gerard muttered aloud, leaning back against the wall of his bedroom as he brought the can of beer to his lips, and Frank pretended to be too out of it to hear, but with Gerard so close and so beautiful, he couldn't be anything but wide fucking awake in that moment.

Gerard needed some consolation, something, _anything_ more than shitty cheap alcohol and the mind numbing solitude of late night/early morning thoughts in a far from empty mind, and that was how his hand reached to the bedside table, and his cellphone was unplugged, and the little screen illuminated his face in a way that Frank pretended not to notice.

Gerard had forgotten, both all about the texts, and all about the promise he'd made to Mikey, because as he opened his messages app: intent on texting someone who could get him something more hard hitting than alcohol at two in the morning, he found himself letting out a sigh as his gaze fell upon Bert's contact name.

And then, like he hadn't already had enough of a heart attack, his phone vibrated in his hands: another message, and just what Gerard needed, and just enough to fuck everything up completely.

_'Please be awake. I'm sorry. I love you.'_

And Gerard knew better than to reply to it, but he glanced at his shaking fingertips, and then Frank's 'sleeping' form, and the Star Wars DVD case next to the TV in the corner of his room, and Gerard didn't know better at all.

And Gerard made mistakes and sinned like it was all he had ever been made to, because when Gerard fucked up, he fucked up spectacularly, and when he took Bert McCracken back, it was always late at night, without the aid of sanity.

And he was well aware of the grave he was digging himself, but he dug it with disregard and in fact enough vigour for him to be dressing himself for his own funeral in that very moment.

_'Hey_ '.

Gerard's reply was innocent at first, and somewhat tentative, but Bert had seen it within seconds, and the nineteen year old's whole body shook in response, because he was scared, and he wasn't ready, and he was glancing across at Frank, but Frank was still 'asleep' and Frank didn't look up.

_'I love you._ '

Bert was drunk, and Gerard knew that he was in too deep already when he could sense the intoxication within eight fucking letters, but of course, they were eight slightly important letters, and still, despite his state, Gerard didn't once doubt that Bert might not mean them.

_'It's late_.'

Gerard had opted for a neutral response, glancing up at Frank once more: part of him just begging him not to get himself into this mess again, and just curl up next to boy and let things sort themselves out until morning, and then maybe they'd try again another night, and maybe they'd get to more than just kissing, and maybe, just _once_ , just maybe, Gerard could admit to himself that this thing with Frank was more than just a fuck.

_'I know. Call me or go back to sleep.'_

And Gerard was something like too tired, or something like too drunk to question Bert's response, and found himself glancing back at Frank and how beautiful he looked, and the space in bed next to him, and then _Bert_ , and his voice, and advice, and the way he could make everything okay within seconds, and suddenly Gerard was fifteen again, and so fucking scared, and so fucking _naive_ , and it was Jepha and that party, and Gerard wasn't even sure he was in control of his fingers as he pressed the call button.

"I was kind of hoping you'd go to bed, you know? I'm tired." Bert mumbled, opting for something slightly more imaginative than a generic 'hello' kind of greeting.

"Hello to you too." Gerard let out a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, too distracted by nearly knocking the can of beer over to notice the way Frank stirred in bed and looked up as Gerard began to speak.

"I miss you, Gee, come back, and let me fuck you, and take me back, or something, and... we work, you know we do." And Bert had a point, and it was two am and Gerard was alone, and Frank was very much awake in bed beside him.

"I miss you too, Bert." Gerard sighed out, his chest practically burning up as the words left his lips, almost like his body knew what kind of mess he was getting himself into here, and was even trying to prevent it, but of course, it wasn't quite trying hard enough, or perhaps Gerard was just defiant enough.

"I love you, Gee." Bert continued, yawning a little as he spoke from the other side of the phone.

And silence, suspended breathing, as every nerve in Gerard's body began to scream out in an odd, painless kind of pain. "I... _fuck_ , Bert... I'm... it's late... I'm kind of drunk... I..."

"Who's in the bed next to you?" Bert's question was direct, because there was no questioning the fact that they knew each other well enough by now.

"No one-"

" _Who_?" Bert grew impatient, as he didn't exactly appreciate being lied to, but of course, who did?

"Frank." Gerard finally pushed the response out, and the body stirred in the sheets at the sound of his name, turning so he met Gerard's gaze; the two engaged in eye contact as Gerard trembled a little.

"Get rid of him and come back to me." And Gerard wondered whether the definitely not asleep Frank could hear what Bert was saying, because if he'd heard any more of their conversation, the thought did truly terrify him.

And Gerard reckoned that he was just as terrified of Bert having even the slightest notion as to the contents of his and Frank's conversations, especially the ones yesterday, before he quite had the chance to fuck things up.

"I'm sorry." Gerard spoke aloud, his gaze burning into Frank's; he, himself, unsure as to exactly who his words were directed at, as he hung up, and placed the phone back on his bedside table, and lay down beside Frank.

"Were you apologising to me or him?" The two had laid in silence for a good few minutes, until Frank broke it with the question that even Gerard didn't quite know the answer to.

"I don't know." And Gerard answered with little but honesty, because it was two in the morning, and his head knew little better than his heart.

"Well that's fucking great, isn't it?" Frank snapped, turning over and away from Gerard.

"Frank-"

" _Fuck off_."

And Gerard didn't even try to fix things, because it was too late, and this was his second, perhaps third fuck up, and it was little but his own fault, and it was exactly that that kept the nineteen year old lying still yet without sleep until something like four in the morning.

-

On the other side of town, two different people woke up in bed together, however their night had ended more so with cocaine and awkward hand holding, as opposed to lying and broken promises, and stupid decisions, but in reality, the situation wasn't all that much better.

Because Jamia didn't have a fucking clue what she was doing in Lindsey's bed, letting herself get this close, and this attached, and in fact, in the morning light, perhaps the sole thing she did know was that Lindsey was unfairly beautiful, even with fucked up hair, no make up, and tired eyes.

And Jamia reckoned that she most definitely would have rather fallen off a cliff than fallen for Lindsey Ballato, and it wasn't like such a statement wasn't within reason.

"Fuck, I can't remember last night at all, you know?" Lindsey groaned, stretching and sitting up in bed, and kicking Jamia's leg a little, incidentally, of course, altogether Jamia would really much rather that Lindsey broke her leg than her heart.

"Mmm..." Jamia could remember _everything_ , and of course, that was down to the amount of coke Lindsey had done, and the amount she'd drank afterwards, and not that she was at all embarrassed or feeling the awkward social pressures the slightly homosexual connotations of her prior actions, of course.

"Fuck, I look like shit." Lindsey grumbled, stumbling out of bed to assess her appearance in the mirror, and leaving Jamia to shoot herself and frantically disagree with her.

"You don't." Jamia's was sort of monotone like she didn't really mean it, but of course, in reality, she most certainly could not mean it more, and that was a truth that haunted her in every waking moment.

"I think I texted Mikey last night, at like one in the morning..." Lindsey mumbled aloud, just deciding to casually change in front of her bedroom mirror, as Jamia threw her head back against the pillow and forced herself to look away, because _fuck_ , _fuck_ this, absolutely just _fuck_ it.

"No, I stopped you... well... I didn't, but you didn't have any signal, and I deleted the message before it could send." Jamia explained, as she glanced around the side of Lindsey's bedroom that she wasn't naked in, and considered if she could manage to off herself easily within the next few minutes or so, because that would most definitely be easier than listening to Lindsey drone on about Mikey fucking Way for one fucking moment more.

"You're such a good _friend_ , Jamia, you're my best pal, for real, you and me... we're _gal pals_."

"I thought Frank was your best friend." Jamia sat up, having already died internally, and finding herself more disappointed than she should have been at the fact that Lindsey was fully clothed.

"Fuck off, Frank's my gay friend, where as you-"

"Don't fucking- _no_... gay friend.... _no_ , Lindsey... that's fucking... _no_... don't, just _don't_. He's your _friend_ , not your _gay friend_." And there was of course, also the fact that if Lindsey had to have one designated gay friend, Jamia had totally gotten in there before Frank had, so he could totally just fuck off with that one.

"Well... he's gay and he's my friend...?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows, turning back to face Jamia, looking perhaps even hotter than she had five minutes ago, and in turn, Jamia wanted to stab herself even more than she had five minutes ago.

"Is the fact that he's gay really the most important thing about him? Because that's what ' _gay_ friend' connotes, because you don't have 'straight friends'... they're just _friends_..."

"I don't have straight dude friends, Jamia, I have people I've fucked, and I have you, and you're my best pal, and I have Frank, and 'just friend' sounds a bit lacking, if you know what I mean?" Lindsey continued to argue her 'point', and Jamia kind of considered slapping her across the face, but of course, she couldn't quite ever bring herself to do so.

"Then how about short friend, or guy friend, or friend who I haven't fucked-"

"But the reason I haven't fucked him is because he's _gay_ -"

"Fuck, Lindsey, you're so fucking shallow, you know?" Jamia got up, practically yelling at Lindsey at this point.

"Oh do go on, talk to me about shallow, why don't you, Jamia Nestor?" Lindsey snapped, glaring at her 'gal pal' as she pulled some more clothes on, before making her way towards the door and a rather theatrical exit, only turning back to utter one final question

"What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?"

"All you ever care about is yourself, and you don't need to lie here, because we _both_ know it."

Jamia shook her head, somewhat defeated at this point, "no, Lindsey, all I ever care about is _you_."

And with that, and continued silence on Lindsey's part, she made her exit.

-

And Pete was cute, but not _that_ cute, or at least Mikey wouldn't admit that to himself, as he sat there, making a pathetically tragic effort when it came to _not_ staring at him, because he totally fucking was, and Pete could talk for what seemed like years when he was interested, and it was killing Mikey, because he smiled through every word and made stupid jokes, and fuck, Mikey's continued attempts of a 'no homo' nature were falling flat as of recent.

He'd gotten up at nine in the morning on a weekend just to hang out with Pete, and perhaps just avoid Lindsey Ballato who said she was going over to see Gerard today, and Mikey was just genuinely terrified that she'd try 'flirting' with him again, because he was anything but interested, and he really would much rather waste away his life staring at some cute emo wreck as he continued to deny all attraction towards him.

Pete had started this conversation about some obscure metal band at least twenty minutes ago, and Mikey was beginning to wonder if Pete actually needed to breathe at all, because it was beginning to concern him now, but watching Pete smile at practically nothing was quit easily the best thing that Mikey Way had ever seen.

Not that he'd admit that to anyone, and especially not Gerard, despite how Gerard was totally in the same situation with Frank, however, of course, in reality, Mikey hadn't a clue regarding the nature of Gerard's situation with Frank as of two this morning, as he'd managed to leave the house before even his mother had woken up, let alone _Gerard_.

Mikey was just relieved in his belief that Gerard was done with Bert now, and when inevitability struck, and he did indeed find out, it would surely break him.

"Mikeyway..." The seventeen year old jumped a little as Pete laid his head back into his lap, grinning up at him like an idiot.

"Yeah?" Mikey responded, groaning internally as he could feel his cheeks flushing a horrible shade of scarlet.

"Can I ask you something?" And Pete was all wide puppy dog eyes and racoon rings of eyeliner as he met Mikey's gaze, his lips slightly parted.

And Mikey was dying, because that was the kind of question that would ruin the entire world, but still he nodded, because if Mikey had difficulty when it came to anything, it was Pete Wentz and saying 'no' to him.

"Why do you always wear that same hoodie?" And the trivial nature of Pete's question almost had Mikey dying right then and right there, because from the sincerity in Pete's gaze, Mikey was expecting something more along the lines of 'will you marry me?', and of course, because no homo, Mikey could make absolutely no opinionated statement regarding Pete asking for his hand in marriage.

"Because it's comfy... and it's the darkest black, like you know how some blacks fade? This doesn't, and it keeps my emo game high, and it matches my passive aggressive, world hating, misunderstood, goth stoner aesthetic perfectly."

"You're cute." Pete giggled, burying his head against Mikey's hoodie, and leaving the taller boy's cheeks burning like fireworks... like the fourth of July.

"You're... you're..." Mikey shook his head, biting his lip, because _fuck_ , no homo, goddamn.

"Amazing?" Pete sat up, grin already plastered onto his face, "yeah, I know."

And Mikey saw no point in arguing at all. 

"I like that hoodie, though, it's fine that you wear it all the time; it's so you, and I like it, and I like you, and you're the best friend I've ever had, and..." And Pete really needed to pick up on his homo game right now, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to let the truth slip out, because Mikey was so much cooler than him, and he couldn't help but feel like a dandelion beside a rose.

"You know Frank?" Mikey changed the subject in the silence, perhaps just to avoid further embarrassment, or perhaps they'd just never know why Mikey Way was just so romantically incompetent, which was a real damn shame, wasn't it?

"Yeah, Frank Frozen, if we're using his cool name, you remember? What was yours, I can't remember?" And it was exactly then that Mikey thoroughly regretted changing the subject to something Pete felt at all comfortable with.

"Nope." Mikey shook his head, reaching into his pocket and lighting himself a cigarette, because he needed one at this point.

"You can be Mikey Meme-"

"Not Mikey Mouse?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, because he certainly heard that a million times before... when he was about seven, but Pete was special and a part of him kind of liked that.

"No, Mikey Meme: I'm original." And Pete was entirely too proud of himself.

"And you're Pete Pepe, then?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, continuing to reference totally serious meme culture that wasn't trashy at all, because as everyone knew, Pepe the frog was the most exquisite of memes; it never died, only aged like a fine wine.

"Yes, and we can be memelords together!" Pete exclaimed, sitting up with entirely too much vigour. "Mikey Way will you be my memelord?"

"What does that even mean?"

"What does that even _meme_..." Pete's face fell into a grin, "meme, hey? _Meme_ , like as in, you know, meme? Anyway, you don't know what a memelord is? Why are we friends, Mikeyway?"

"I quite honestly don't know." Mikey continued, taking a drag of his cigarette as Pete continued to grin at him like an idiot.

"Because you're amazing, perhaps even as amazing as me." Pete continued, pausing for a moment, and pushing Mikey's fringe back into his face.

"What?" Mikey was left in confusion as to why Pete had appointed himself his personal hairdresser now, and well, who wouldn't be?

"Your emo game was getting weak, Mikey Meme." Pete moved so he was sat beside Mikey and pulled his cellphone out. " _Now_ , we can take a selfie-"

"Pete, I-"

" _Pete Pepe_." Pete corrected with an unnervingly sincere look in his eyes.

"Pete Pepe..." Mikey trailed off, shaking his head, because what the fuck had he gotten himself into here? "Why are we taking a selfie?"

"Because, Mikey Way, let me tell you a secret, your face is my aesthetic, and this would absolutely make my instagram theme."

-


	10. The Kind Of 'Advanced Hugging' Where Dicks Are Involved

It made little sense at all, and had Lindsey Ballato just laid there on her bed for perhaps even hours afterwards, as she pondered what Jamia could possibly mean.

Because it wasn't like she'd really given Lindsey much of an explanation, was it? 

It was all words, loud and with a conceited, hidden meaning, and then, simply nothing, and silence besides the slam of a door, because Lindsey had fucked up for sure, Jamia had managed to convey that at the very least, but she just couldn't figure out _how_.

And after something like an hour of just in bed in a state of contemplation that made her wonder just why she'd wasted so much time on Jamia, not that time spent thinking of her was necessarily wasted, but, _fuck_... nothing made sense, and if Lindsey was sure of one thing in that moment it was the aforementioned.

And after that hour had elapsed, not that she'd been timing it or anything, she just grew tired of being tired, and got over being 'over it', because there were better things to do than mope around and obsess over something that was now little more than entirely out of her control; Jamia was Jamia, Jamia was her best friend, and they'd always been best friends, and perhaps they always would be, and Lindsey had an odd kind of faith in that.

Perhaps it was even that faith that had left her to leave the house with so little on her mind, because this was just an 'off' day, and it'd be fine tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, and they'd be fine, because they always were.

But deep down, Lindsey couldn't help but feel like, this time, somehow, something was just a little bit different.

She soon shook the notion, though, texting the something like the first six guys she came across in her contacts list, and agreeing to go over to the house of the first one who'd replied: fucking _Brendon Urie_ , but it wasn't like Lindsey was in the right mind to at least have the dignity to be picky at this point, and well, it seemed like she did indeed owe Brendon Urie's balls an apology after all.

Of course, as to how such a debt would be settled would all be decided in Brendon's house, Brendon's bedroom, perhaps, and it wasn't Mikey, and it didn't matter, because even now, Lindsey's stupid infatuation with Mikey didn't matter; she just needed _someone_ , and someone who would text back within twenty seconds, and someone that she could get to care after a blowjob or something, because if Lindsey had learned anything in life, it was that kindness most certainly did not come free.

She was certain she'd regret this tomorrow, or perhaps even as soon as it was over, or perhaps even whilst it was happening, but that meant nothing in her head right now, which was little more than a disarrayed mess of complex thoughts and stupid feelings, and of course, the world's worst emotions.

And she was perhaps even so fucked up to look at Brendon Urie like he was akin to Jesus or some other deity, or perhaps it was just the light from his hallway behind him as he opened the front door and smiled at her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, looking Lindsey up and down with widened eyes and raised eyebrows, and perhaps just too much distance between the two of them, because if Brendon was honest, he'd never really recovered from that incident last summer.

"Nothing's wrong, Brendon, I just, I just... want to _see_ you." Lindsey brushed it off, pulling on the world's worst excuse for a smile as she stepped inside and closed the front door behind her.

"Something's seriously wrong if Lindsey Ballato optionally wants to speak to me." Brendon snorted a little, watching as Lindsey glared at him a little, and the boy with the massive forehead felt a sudden increase in concern for his balls, and dear god, those boots Lindsey was wearing today - no thanks.

"Wow? Is that what you really think of me, huh? I'm not such a heartless bitch, you know? If it's anyone being heartless right now, it's you-"

"Come on, come on, Lindsey, just tell me what's up." Brendon shook his head, perhaps even going as far as to _smile_ at Lindsey, which seriously meant something in regards to the circumstances. "This isn't... this isn't-"

But before Brendon could even figure out what the next word in that sentence was, Lindsey had him pushed up against the wall and her lips on his, and perhaps she was something like okay for four point five seconds, but it all faded away as Brendon pushed her away from him, and she plummeted back down to reality.

"Don't fucking kiss me, Lindsey, just _talk_ to me." Brendon shook his head, making his way down the hallway into the living room and gesturing for Lindsey to follow; the two taking a seat on a sofa with a very suspicious white stain, which both had made more than ample effort in avoiding. "Come on, I know something's up, just _tell_ me."

"It's complicated-"

"Isn't everything?" Brendon raised his eyebrows, shaking his head a little as he did so. "Don't use that as an excuse, or at least tell me why the fuck you're optionally speaking to me right now if it isn't for advice, because that's the only use I could possibly have to you, come on, now, don't fucking kid yourself."

"Don't be so harsh on yourself-"

"For fuck's sake, Lindsey, I didn't kick _myself_ in the balls, did I?" Brendon shook his head, pausing for a moment as he contemplated his next words, and just what the hell could possibly come of this mess. "Which boy fucked you over this time?"

"Why do you automatically assume that it's to do with that? Is the fact that I get with a lot of boys the most important aspect about my personality?" Lindsey retorted with an unexpected amount of vigour.

"Well, not your _personality_ , but you... like... that's what people _know_ you for, come on, you can't deny that."

"Ever heard of feminism, Urie?" Lindsey shook her head with a sigh, deciding against giving the fuckboy enough time to construct some form of response. "Anyway, me and Jamia had a fight, and it wasn't pretty... it was... it's a mess, and I don't know why it's affecting me this much, but-"

"Because she's your best friend?" Brendon raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't comment further, perhaps just for the sake of his balls.

"It's something more than that - it _has_ to be."

"Are you sure you're not just a bit gay for her?"

" _Fuck off_." Lindsey shook her head, perhaps speaking before she could even process what Brendon was really saying, but perhaps, just _perhaps_ , that was for the better. "I'm straight, she's straight, we had a fight, that's that."

And to some level, even Lindsey herself knew that deep down, it really wasn't.

-

There was a note on the refrigerator door from his mother, a text from Mikey, and Gerard was nothing but grateful to be alone, well, besides the sleeping boy upstairs.

Because his head was little more than the definition of a mess, and Bert had been relentless in texting, even after the call, and Gerard couldn't even chance glancing at them long enough to delete them, and of course, Gerard couldn't even imagine facing Frank like this, because he'd fucked up big time.

This was new; this was all kinds of news, and all kinds of different, and for one simple reason, and that was for the fact that unlike Bert, Frank actually gave a fuck, about Gerard, about them, about _anything_ , and Gerard just didn't know whether he liked that or not.

Because sure, it was nice to feel like you've fucked up completely and then for the person you thought would hate you to think of it as nothing at all, but in turn, it's little but hellish for that same person to turn away and simply smile in response to whatever you told them.

Frank, on the other hand, always cared, and perhaps even just a little too much, but that could easily be Gerard being stupid, and well, Gerard often was.

And with his phone so close to him on the counter top, today was little more than another countless example, because as the nineteen year old made himself a coffee, he knew that the matter of unlocking that phone and reading those messages was little more than an inevitability, and it lay hand in hand in that state with Frank walking down those stairs, and screaming at him, or perhaps worse.

And still, with all this time, the nineteen year old still hadn't so much as a clue as to what he could say to either of them, and perhaps even the longer he spent pondering upon it, the more hopeless it seemed, and the more hopeless _he_ seemed.

His phone began to vibrate against the countertop with more force this time: a call, but Gerard was intent upon ignoring it, as he busied himself with drawing out his every action as he attempted to make this damn shitty cup of coffee, and well, he nearly had somewhat of a heart attack as he nearly found himself dropping the aforementioned coffee, as the ringing came to an abrupt halt.

"Well, it didn't look like you were going to answer it any time soon." The shorter boy added as explanation, as he held Gerard's phone out in his left hand, putting it on speakerphone, and meeting Gerard's gaze, as Bert began to speak.

"Hey, _Gee_... mmm... I'm a bit drunk, but I really do think I love you, and I really do think you love me too, so come on, baby, s-say it, mmm?" 

And Frank raised his eyebrows, glancing between the phone in the palm of his hand, and Gerard: frozen, and almost lifeless, with a cup of coffee in his right hand.

"Go on then, _'Gee_ '." Frank made an effort when it came to glaring at the older boy, growing impatient as he waited for the response, for the end to this all, because Frank's heart was held up high by a thread, and at this point, Frank would perhaps even prefer the freefall and the safety of the floor than this kind of hellish, uncertain limbo. "We're waiting, aren't we, Bert?"

"Huh? Who's this?" Bert asked, just a little confused as to what the hell was going on, "where's my baby Gee?"

"This is Frank, you know _Frank._ Gerard told you about me when he thought I was asleep, but I was awake the whole time, and now he's fucking the both of us about, because he can't decide who he loves." Frank paused, meeting Gerard’s eyes as he continued, "so honestly, I'm just as eager to find out what he has to say for himself as you do."

"I didn't expect you to be this feisty, you know?" Bert mumbled at Frank from down the phone, before continuing to address Gerard, "anyway, come on, Gee, fucking say _something_ , anything, how about that, huh?"

"I don't know-"

"You said that already." Frank snapped, glaring at Gerard with everything he had left. "You said that last night, and you said 'I'm sorry' too, and you didn't mean either of them, so come on, fucking say something you mean for once, will you? Surely lying to yourself all the time must get so fucking _tedious_."

"Okay..." Gerard stepped forward, closer to the phone, ensuring that Bert could hear him too, "something I _mean_? I like Bert because he doesn't care about anything, whether that's me fucking up or me in general, and I hate him for exactly the same goddamn reason." Gerard paused, avoiding Frank's gaze as he did so, "and I like Frank because he cares about _everything_ I say and everything I do, and I hate him for precisely the same reason."

"Fuck-"

"Bert's familiar, it's been forever and I feel safe with him, and he gives me free drugs, and sometimes it's dull, and we don't live in the same town anymore, and Frank's new, and inexperienced, and cute, and it's stupid, and he's Mikey's friend not mine, and he's overacting, because he's in high school, this is a high school thing, and-"

"Fuck-"

"Mikey doesn't want me to be with Bert, Mikey doesn't want me to be with Frank either, perhaps it makes sense now, so thank you for allowing me to express my emotions: I don't love _either_ of you."

-

And that was how, Lindsey had ended up back at her house, and in turn, how Gerard Way had ended up on her doorstep, because it was sad smiles, and understanding, because in a low-key thing of way, Gerard reckoned that perhaps he and Lindsey would always have _something_ , even if it could never be serious, and perhaps it was even better off that way.

But, the two didn't exactly leave much time for talking things through, to put it simply, and Lindsey's empty house was definitely put to full use, as was the lock on her bedroom door, because, you know, just in case.

And Gerard didn't think of either Bert nor Frank as he, to put it bluntly, _fucked_ her, and in the same way, Lindsey didn’t think of Jamia either, and perhaps it was easier for her in that moment, because she was certainly far from coming to terms with her sexuality, but in the scheme of things, this mess in Lindsey Ballato's head could be compared to little but hell itself.

And as they continued not to think about other people, the two slowly moved away from one another as the heat and irrationality faded away from the situation and the two fell back on the bed, still completely naked, but side by side, and perhaps just a little more certain of the fact that they had fucked up their lives than they were something like fifteen minutes prior.

Because this wasn't pleasure, or fun, or _anything_ , really, this was just what needed to happen, and perhaps this was the best thing Lindsey had going for her, because Gerard was the only boy in the world who thought about her in the same way she thought about him.

That lovestruck vibe was the absolute bane of her existence.

And for Gerard, things were just simpler to deal with when you could deny their existence completely, and you had someone to lie to you about everything being okay, and Lindsey was hot, and perhaps her body was somewhat of a distraction from the mess last night and the two men that he'd rejected for the sake of his own arrogance, or something along those lines.

The two worked, and most certainly in the least orthodox of ways, but they worked, and that was that, and that was definitely one of Lindsey's better orgasms, not that Lindsey had really had many when she'd been fucking so many fuckboys, after all.

Gerard thought of it less as sex, and more so as stress relief, and the kind of intimacy that made him feel okay again: an alternative to talking things through, or a hug from a close friend, because actually, this was a _hug_ from a close friend, just perhaps an _advanced_ hug... a hug when his dick was involved too.

And Gerard was just glad that all hugs weren't like that, or perhaps, he wasn’t, because if that was what hugging was like, he reckoned he'd be doing it a hell of a lot more often, and a hell of a lot _less_ with his family, because... yeah, maybe hugs should stay the way they were.

The nineteen year old wasn't much of a fan of change, after all, and it should in this four year mess of a not quite relationship with Bert, and the fact that he didn't even question the fact that getting back with him was an inevitability at this point, it was just that Frank had thrown himself into the mix, and this wasn't how things usually were, and Gerard was fucking _done_ when it came to dealing with it.

"So are we at the explanation state yet or not?" Lindsey broke the silence with a blunt enough tone to make Gerard jump a little, and in turn, Lindsey giggle a little, and perhaps then a little more in realisation at just how messed up this situation was.

But like, fuck the mainstream, and this totally fulfilled Lindsey's pretentious art fuck goth hipster aesthetic.

"The what?" Gerard asked, turning to Lindsey a little, and raising his eyebrows, brushing the locks of dark hair that had fallen into his face away from his eyes as he did so.

"You're fucked up, I'm fucked up, we fucked, and now we explain - I reckon that's how it works, don't you think?" Lindsey met Gerard with a smile, before pausing for a moment, as the two laid in silence. "There's this whole damn _mess_ with Jamia, and then talking to _Brendon Urie_ about it was the worst decision in the world, and I'm all bad decisions and good fuck, and perhaps I need something else in my life."

"What happened with Jamia?" Gerard asked, watching as Lindsey's gaze grew distant and somewhat contemplative, and even just a little softer in a way.

"We had an argument; some stupid shit, and then Brendon's advice was limited to telling me to date her or something along those lines, and it's stupid, but I started thinking about it, you know? And it's weird, because I have fucked so many boys, but _just_ boys..." Lindsey trailed off, meeting Gerard's gaze, "what do you think I should do?"

"I think you should realise that your life isn't bad porn and that the situation to all girl on girl arguments isn't a fuck or something along those lines: apologise to her, for Christ’s sake, Lindsey."

"But it's _hard_ , and I... I'm good with the other kind of hard, if you know what I mean?" And Gerard probably should have _slapped_ her for that one. "And now come on, it's your turn, Way, tell me all about how you ruined your life today, why don't you?"

"Yesterday, I invited Frank over, and it wasn't a date, but it _was_ a date, but don't tell _anyone_ I said that, especially not Frank, especially not _Mikey_ , but we ended up staying over, but nothing happened, because he made a joke or something, and I reacted badly, and I thought he was asleep, and he wasn't, and Bert, my ex, called me, and... Frank heard everything we said, and it was messy, and _messier_ this morning, and Frank got Bert on speakerphone and made me pick between them, and it was horrible, so I rejected both of them, and got the fuck out of there, and I, didn't know where to go, you know? And I saw you posted that status about fuckboys, and you're... you're easy to talk to-"

"Fuck, you mean." Lindsey rolled her eyes at him, "I'm easy to fuck, you mean."

"That's not what I-"

"It's what _everybody_ means, isn't it, Gerard?"

-


	11. Jamia The Crafty Lesbian Goth Witch

"Pete, I'm _not_ coming into school-" Mikey groaned shaking his head at the shorter boy.

" _Legally_ , you have to." Pete added, although everyone knew by this point that Mikey Way simply did not give one single fuck.

"What because you're scared of some kid you made a slightly passive aggressive comment about on twitter last night?" Mikey raised eyebrows, shaking his head at the boy that he couldn't help call his friend, because _fuck_ , yeah, Pete was pathetic, but Pete was his _pal_ , and that was final, and to an extent, really not Mikey's decision.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm... _nervous_." Pete stressed, blushing a little, and brushing his fringe down into his face to hide the scarlet red colour his cheeks were turning.

Mikey chuckled a little: not _at_ Pete, but at the situation and the way Pete was reacting. "It'll be fine, I promise, look... I've got maths homework I haven't done today as well, and, look, hey I _promise_ I'll come in tomorrow, does that make it better?"

"No." Pete snapped, folding his arms like an angry five year old, leaving Mikey to severely reassess his life and his friendship choices.

"Well, what can I do, Pete?" Mikey let out a sigh, stretching a little as he did so. "I can't come in, and you're nervous, and you're nervous for no reason and it's gonna be fine-"

"Can I skip with you?" Pete asked, all wide eyes and intrigued smile, and Mikey knew then and there that this was absolutely the worst idea he'd ever heard, but simultaneously, the only one that Pete would settle for.

" _Fuck_ , fine... but when you get into trouble and shit, that's anything _but_ my fault, you got that?" Mikey waited for Pete to nod in response, before letting him inside, the two walking past a particularly emo looking Gerard sat in the kitchen, mouthing something to his cornflakes, and well, Mikey would do and slap his brother across the face, and _happily_ too, but they had guests, so yeah that was pretty unfortunate.

"You have a really nice house, Mikeyway." Pete said as he followed Mikey up the stairs and into quite easily the messiest bedroom he'd ever seen. "You also have a really nice face, and a really nice personality, and you're just really _nice_. I really like you, Mikey." Pete let out a sigh as he fell back onto Mikey's bed.

"Mmm... I like you too, Pete." Mikey nodded, somewhat absent mindedly as he grabbed a hoodie, because damn, it _wasn't_ hot in here. "So, do you actually care to elaborate on this whole passive aggressive mess or not?"

Pete blushed a little as Mikey sat down beside him on the bed, because like they were dangerously nearing homo territory, and Mikey was like no thanks Pete, but Pete was in an _extremely_ homosexual mood, as it happens. "Well, I may have made some sort of vague comment about those dicks on the football team that are like destined to die alone, and maybe I should have chosen someone less physically strong than me to emotionally attack."

Mikey shook his head, laughing a little as he did so. "You're kind of ridiculous, you know that, Pete?"

Pete nodded, sighing a little, "yeah, I don't make sense, I _know_."

"No," Mikey met Pete's gaze with a newfound sincerity, as the taller boy grabbed a packet of cigarettes from his bedside table and began to light one, "I didn't mean it like that, and I won't ever will. I meant ridiculous like funny, ridiculous like _cute_."

"Well, if that's you flirting with me, Mikeyway, you're doing a pretty shit job." Pete let out a sigh, grinning like an idiot as he began to lean back against Mikey's bedroom wall, leaving the taller boy to simply shake his head in disbelief at the idiot that he'd let into his house.

"No, that's me being nice to you, Pete." Mikey explained, moving so he was sat beside Pete, too with his back pressed up against the wall. "You're just so damn _ridiculous_ , you know?"

"And you're such an ass." Pete shook his head, grinning a little as he leant his head onto Mikey's shoulder in a manner that Mikey couldn't even bother fighting, because fuck it, this was Pete Wentz', and okay, he was kind of cute, but he was totally wrecking Mikey's whole 'aloof and mysterious' aesthetic.

"Okay-"

"You're lucky I like ass- like I _really_ like ass." Pete added, grinning like he was insanely proud of himself, and well, Mikey was kind of lost as to what the hell he could respond to that with. "Your ass is my favourite, honestly, you're my favourite anything, Mikeyway, you're just so _good_ , so nice in everyway."

"Compliments are not your forte, are they?" Mikey raised an eyebrow, but he was blushing nevertheless.

"You're blushing." Pete noted, smirking to himself in achievement, even going as far as to push Mikey's hair from his face to take his red cheeks in in full.

"It's hot in here-" Mikey went for what was easily the worst excuse Pete had actually ever heard, but it was amusing nonetheless.

"Yeah, that'll be _me_." Pete smirked, raising his eyebrows in a manner so smug, Mikey wanted to fucking _slap him._ "Or you, actually, because you're pretty damn hot, Mikey, you really are, so like, I think it's a joint effort between the both of us, what do you think?"

"I think you should shut up." Mikey rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Pete in something not far off disbelief.

"I think you should _make_ me." Pete smirked, laughing his fucking head off as he laid his head into Mikey's laugh. "I really like making you blush, you know?"

"Yeah, I've noticed." Mikey let out a sigh, watching as Pete, shuffled _scarily_ close to his dick, but thankfully just laid his down inches away. "What is it with you, what is it with _this_?"

"You're cute, I like you." Pete mumbled, kind of half asleep, with his eyelids kind of half closed. "No homo, though, Mikeyway, _god_ , it couldn't be _homo!_ " He exclaimed, leaving Mikey to shake his head in disbelief, as slowly, but surely, Pete Wentz fell asleep in his lap, and dear god, Mikey wanted to shoot the previous version of himself who'd thought letting Pete stay here with him today was a good idea.

But, it was also kind of cute, and Mikey was kind of flattered, and his heart was kind of beating a little too fast, and Mikey was kind of absolutely _fucked_ when it came to Pete Wentz, but there was absolutely no way that he was admitting that to himself.

-

Mikey had eventually moved Pete into his bed, and made his way downstairs, perhaps just to see if his brother had stopped looking so morbidly emo whilst eating cereal yet; he had no such luck, as he walked into the dining room and found Gerard muttering something to himself as he battered a dozen Coco Pops with his spoon.

_Tentatively_ , Mikey took a seat beside his brother, and fixated his gaze upon the mess he was making inside of that cereal bowl. "In the kindest way possible, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Mmm..." Gerard groaned, pushing the cereal bowl down the table and throwing his head down in place of it. "I fucked up."

"Wonderful." Mikey let out a kind of disappointed, yet expectant sigh, because Gerard was always fucking ruining his life _somehow_ , and in fact, Mikey had become somewhat accustomed to it as of recent, which really didn't bode well for either of them psychologically. "Care to elaborate?"

"Frank." He grumbled, turning to face Mikey, and watching as his face fell. "I... I don't even know, I really don't know what happened, but now he hates me, now everyone hates me, and I slept with Lindsey, and even that ended in an argument, and you know what? _Nothing_ makes sense."

"Maybe you should stop sleeping with the whole world?" Mikey added as just a casual suggestion, because he knew his brother well enough to know that there wasn't a chance in hell that he could just _not_ have sex.

"Mmm... but then it's _boring_." He let out a defeated sigh, before turning to Mikey and raising his eyebrows a little, turning the tables, perhaps, "why's Pete Wentz upstairs, in your bedroom?"

"Because I was too stupid to say no to him." Mikey let out a defeated kind of sigh. "I hate him, but I really _don't_ , like you get that?"

"Yeah, all the time with people I wanna fuck, Mikey, therefore you have a thing for Pete, can confirm, I am illuminati as fuck." Gerard grumbled, sitting back in his chair, the stomachache as he did so, giving him a million reasons to regret the vodka from last night.

"Gerard there's 'people you want to fuck' and 'people you haven't met yet'." Mikey shook his head a little, "you're the whore, I'm asexual, it's quite ridiculous, don't you think?"

"Hey, don't call me a _whore_!" Gerard protested, somehow caring just the slightest about his reputation for the first time ever.

"Gerard, your email address is 'gwhore69-'" Mikey protested, but Gerard wasn't having any of it.

"I made that when I was drunk." And that was literally all he had to say for himself, and perhaps that was simply for the better, because Mikey was rapidly losing patience. "Look, Mikey, just... what's going on with you and Pete?"

"Nothing!" Mikey protested, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well, what's _going_ to happen with you and Pete?" Gerard smirked at him, obviously far too proud of himself for that one.

"Well, I don't know, I don't have a time machine, do I?" Mikey let out a sigh, happy that at the very least, this wasn't a situation that Pete himself was involved with, because then, he reckoned he really wouldn't ever hear the end of it.

"So, you don't _know_ , so things _could_ happen, _hey_ , M-" And that was the very point that Mikey slapped his brother.

"So, what's happened with Frank? Explain in detail before I ask Frank myself and take all he says as the absolute truth, no matter how much he paints you as an asshole."

"Okay, fine he slept over, there was awkwardness, and I thought he was asleep, and I was on the phone to Bert at like two-"

" _Bert_?" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening furiously. "I fucking- _why_? Gerard, _why_? Why the fuck do you need Bert McCracken in your life?"

"He called, not me, and I don't know it was late, I was kind of lonely, and _drunk_ , and confused, and I don't know, but Frank was awake and he could hear the whole thing and in the morning he did this shitty thing where he got Bert on speakerphone and made me pick between the two of them right then and right there-"

"If you chose Bert I will not hesitate to throw you out a window-"

"I chose neither." Gerard let out a sigh, letting his gaze hit the floor. "And now they both hate me, and then I was more drunk and lonely, and Lindsey Ballato seemed like a good enough bet, because she was fucked up like me then, and we fucked, and it wasn't anything special, but we got into a fight afterwards; I think she's starting to hate this presence she has as 'school slut', or whatever, which is very much not Lindsey, but I don't know... I think something big has changed in her personal life or something-"

"Why don't you just ask her?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, shaking his head at his brother. "Instead of making assumptions, why don't you just ask?"

"Because she's probably going to be at school right now-"

"That's the worst excuse I have ever heard in my _life_ , Gerard Arthur Way, fucking sort your life out, okay? I'm going to talk to Frank about this and you're _not_ going to talk to Bert, _ever_ , got it?" Gerard nodded, because fuck, Mikey did kind of scare him when he was angry.

"And do I not get to talk to Pete about what's going on between you two?"

"No, I- Pete's... no." Mikey shook his head a million times over, having perhaps just as many heart attacks as Pete Wentz himself appeared in the doorway, half asleep, and smiling like an idiot.

"Mikey, you _abandoned_ me-"

"You fell asleep." Mikey sighed out, shaking his head, and shooting Gerard a 'help me' glance, which his brother took great pleasure in ignoring as he got up to make himself his seventeenth cup of coffee that morning.

-

The two were on the outskirts of the city, sat in some half polluted field, which some farmer would probably end up kicking them out of, but Frank reckoned when he came close enough to see the 'voodoo doll' Jamia was making of Lindsey Ballato, he may be more than a little concerned.

In fact, Frank was a little concerned, perhaps more than a little concerned, but he kept quite and continued to smoke without judgement, and mostly for fear than Jamia would combat his opposition to the idea of making voodoo dolls, by making one of him, and then proceeding to burn that too.

Sure, Frank wasn't exactly the type to believe in voodoo dolls and that kind of shit, but he also wasn't just plain stupid enough to fucking try risking his chances.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Frank couldn't stop himself, as Jamia snatched his lighter from his palm, and clicked it a few times, before pausing to answer his question.

"Fuck, do I know, Frank? Do I have a fucking clue about anything at all? No, I don't, but I'm still going to fucking do it, because I'm not like Lindsey, I don't care, I'm not made up entirely of ego and people's expectations; I'm a _person_ , not a _fucking_ doll, Frank, and you get that, don't you? Because without this exterior," Jamia held up the doll, waving it almost dangerously close to Frank's face, "she's nothing."

Jamia threw the doll to the dirt floor and set fire to it with the lighter.

The two watched in silence as it burned into a horrible blackened mess worthy of some shitty tumblr horror blog; the doll had never been to much of a great standard to begin with, starting off as a pom-pom and pipe cleaner contraption: a pipe cleaner torso, two pipe cleaner arms, two pipe cleaner legs, one pom-pom head, and two pom-pom boobs - different sizes, which was a detail Jamia had put the utmost spite into, and of course, Lindsey's face, cut out from a photo of Jamia and her, that Jamia had perhaps once cared for.

As the craft material 'voodoo doll' Lindsey burned away into an unnerving blackened mess, Frank took a moment to remind himself just how fucked up and scared teenage girls were, especially as Jamia turned to him with a smirk, "do you want to make one of Gerard?"

Frank laughed a little, and shook his head; sure, Gerard was a dickhead, but Frank wasn't going to go as far as to burn a crudely made voodoo doll of him, sure, Frank would ruin Gerard's chances with Bert, but this? No, he'd already fucked Gerard enough, he reckoned.

Frank hadn't noticed Jamia taking her cellphone out to take a _photo_ of the voodoo doll mess, until she let out some sort of horrified shriek and nearly dropped her phone into the half burned out mess of kids craft materials and bitter emotions.

"What?" Frank exclaimed, eyes widening like hell, "Jamia, I'm gonna set this fire out, before you step in it." He shook his head, pouring some of his can of diet coke onto it to settle the flames.

" _Frank_." Jamia shook her head as she cradled her phone in her hands, " _look_ , on Snapchat, _look_ , fuck- don't even, I've screenshotted it, I don't even care, I _want_ her to know-" Jamia held her phone out to Frank, who, after a moment's tentative reluctance, took it from her grasp, and well, had nothing short of a heart attack as he laid his eyes over the snapchat that Jamia had screenshotted.

The photo was pretty simple: taken by Lindsey, and with Gerard beside her, the two laying in bed, with the bottom half of the photo scribbled over in black, making it beyond obvious that they were at least topless together, in that bed, and of course, the caption, written in innocent little white letters on that fucking bitch of a black banner, lay: 'guys eat your hearts out - G's best in bed', and a winky face emoji that Frank kind of wanted to punch out of the screen, but he didn't exactly get too much chance, before a text message notification appeared at the top of Jamia's phone:

A simple, _'what the fuck_?' from the contact name 'Whore Bitch', which Frank assume was Lindsey, and then, just as that notification disappeared, _'screenshot? really. wow.'_.

"Jamia, she's... texted you." Frank let out a sigh, handing the phone back to her, and watching as her eyes ignited in something that really did nothing but a truly wonderful job of unnerving Frank. "You probably shouldn't reply."

"Says who?" Jamia glared at him, and before Frank could consider replying, his own phone was vibrating in his pocket, however he found he had a call, not a text, and not from Lindsey, but from Gerard, and he probably should have followed his own advice and not answered it, but fuck, Frank was just kind of honouring the miracle that they'd somehow managed to get reception in a fucking _field_.

"You saw the snapchat, didn't you? Fuck, it's not like that- it's... I..." Gerard starting speaking, practically yelling down the phoneline the very moment Frank had picked up.

"It's what, Gerard? You know what me and Jamia are in a field right now, and she just burned a voodoo doll of Lindsey and offered to make one of you and burn it for me, and I said no, but you know what? I regret that now."

"What the _fuck_?" Gerard wasn't quite expecting that kind of response to say the least. "Look, Lindsey's just bragging, she's just... I didn't even know she took the photo, and it wasn't like that, it wasn't planned: we were both upset and there was one hell of a fight, and Frank please, I’m calling you, because I care about you, and I-"

Frank directed his words at Jamia, but spoke loud enough to ensure that Gerard could hear, "hey, Jamia, can you make that voodoo doll right the fuck now?"

And Gerard could just about catch Jamia's, "fuck yeah, Frank, _fuck yeah_."

" _Voodoo dolls_ , really, Frank?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief, "call me back when you're not so stoned, how about that? Because I want to sort things out, I really do, but we can't when you're acting like a child-"

"I'm not the one fucking the entire town, Gerard, now come on, don't kid yourself; we have nothing, there's _nothing_ to sort out. Delete my number, I'm Mikey's friend, not _yours_."

Frank grinned as he hung up the phone and saw Jamia retrieving the bag of pom-poms and pipe cleaners from her pocket, like some sort of crafty lesbian goth witch.

-


	12. Gerard Way's Beautiful Cock

Gerard reckoned he'd prefer anything to this, and knew very much in that moment that he actually did _despise_ his mother.

Fuck, he'd probably do the washing up and clean both his and Mikey's room over _this_ , and for the boy who couldn't get out of bed before noon most days, that certainly meant a lot.

But _this_ , with _this_ kind of fucking hell, Gerard had woken up at nine in the morning, and had been dragged unwillingly by his mother to the record store down the road, and fucking hell, she really should have asked him before getting him a job.

And then there was the 'it's music, Gerard, you like music', and his mother smiling at the shop owner like she was performing some sort of slave trade deal here, before leaving her nineteen year old son to glare and groan at a country record on the shelf as he wondered just _what_ the fuck he'd done to deserve this.

The owner looked at least forty, so there was no way Gerard was sleeping with him, which had made this at least a hundred times more pointless, because Gerard reckoned he could see the worth in anything that may just possibly involve a chance of him getting laid, or something else along those lines.

And Gerard was about to stab himself in front of this forty year old called Gregory, because he was a lazy little brat and couldn't deal with this shit, until Gregory just happened to mention this _other_ employee that Gerard would be working with.

"His name's Jimmy, he's a couple of years older than you, and he's experienced, he knows what he's doing." Gerard reckoned the latter part of that sentence wasn't supposed to be taken the way Gerard had, but Gregory had had him at 'a couple of years older', because there was someone here he could fuck after all.

Of _course_ , Jimmy had to be late, and Gerard was left manning some shitty cash machine that he didn't understand in a place he'd first seen all of ten minutes ago, but he guessed he was going to be paid for this (unless his mum had been more serious on the slave labour thing than Gerard had hoped) and that was good, and it gave him something other to think about than Frank, didn't it?

Not that Gerard was bothered about Frank, anyway, because the way it seemed, Frank most definitely wasn't bothered about him, and more than anything Gerard was certain that he wouldn't be the pathetic clingy ex-boyfriend, but perhaps the idiot planning to fuck a co-worker he hadn't even met yet.

Gerard just knew that if Jimmy wasn't attractive then he really was going to punch himself in the face here; he'd probably fuck him regardless - he'd been here five minutes and he was already bored, although this place was hardly much of a social hub, seeing as Gerard hadn't even know of its existence much longer than he'd known that it had existed at all.

Jimmy's eventual arrival caught Gerard by surprise: the bell chiming and Gerard having some sort of heart attack as a boy with fucking black _spiked up_ hair walked in through the door and raised his eyebrows at Gerard.

"Oh so you're the new kid, then?" His lips contorted into a smile as he joined Gerard behind the corner, watching with entirely too much amusement as the nineteen year old found him blushing like an idiot.

"You could say that, yeah... I think my mum just sold me into slave labour here though - she didn't tell me about this until literally fifteen minutes ago and I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing here." Gerard let out a sigh, leaning against the wall as he watched Jimmy put his bag down under the counter and log onto the system on the computer - something Gerard had failed to do.

"Oh do you need your mummy to come and take you to your first day at work? You're a big boy now, huh? How fucking old are you, _come on_..." Jimmy let out a chuckle, leaving Gerard unable to decide if this dude actually despised him or was just putting far too much effort into a terrible kind of joke.

"I'm nineteen." Gerard answered his question, although he wasn't exactly sure why he'd done so. "My mum just got me this job because I've been telling her that I'll get one for months now, and well... I kind of like sleeping in until noon and doing little other than drink coffee and jack off."

"You can drink coffee and jack off here if you want: we have a coffee machine, and a _toilet_ , because I'm not all that interested in your dick, sorry, but of course, _no homo_ , wow, I talked about your dick, I must be a flaming _gaylord-_ "

Gerard shook his head, "I'm not one of _those_ people."

"So how many dudes have seen your dick?" Jimmy turned to him, his eyes widening as his lips formed something like a smirk, "just wondering."

"People I've actually fucked or whatever, or just casual dick encounters, and do so drunk I can't remember encounter count?"

"How many guys have you fucked, or been fucked by, do specify actually." Jimmy let out a giddy kind of laugh as he looked Gerard up and down.

"Uhh... I've done both, but I think... eight, maybe nine... guys? _Nine_... definitely nine, there was that guy with the dreads, yeah, I remember now."

"Nice." Jimmy nodded, watching as Gerard considered asking him a similar question in return, before deciding to perhaps turn things up a notch. "Do you want to make it ten? You know, just so it's a round number....?"

Gerard’s eyes widened as they met Jimmy's: the guy deadly sincere in his words, yet grinning like an idiot. "I... I... _here_?"

"We have a bathroom." Jimmy reminded him, stepping closer. "Gonna have to fuck you up against the wall like that though. Would you mind? It's gonna be quick, and rough, and fucking needy, because you're pretty, _kid_ , I lied when I said I wasn't interested in your dick."

" _Please_." Gerard's face lit up, his brain finally occupied with something other than Frank for the first time in forever, and more than delighted to be so.

"Just one thing, though," Gerard nodded as Jimmy let out a chuckle, "what's your name? You never told me your name, I've known you what? Three minutes and I'm going to fuck you, Jesus, you don't have a problem with this at all... this is _fantastic_ , I tell you that."

"Yeah, I like things casual." Gerard brushed his hair away from his face, "I'm Gerard, by the way, _hey_."

-

Frank and Jamia were drowning in teenage homosexual angst, but they were drowning together, and it was certainly a wonderful friendship building kind of thing, as the two sat in Jamia's room: Jamia curled up with her laptop, groaning as she looked through every picture that Lindsey had uploaded to her Facebook ever, and Frank sat beside her, attempting to make some process on the history homework that was due first thing tomorrow.

Frank had gotten distracted from the homework, as it was indeed easy to do, because come on, World War Two was perhaps interesting the first time, but after the seventieth time, it did indeed get exceedingly dull. He found himself watching Jamia flick through the photos, and soon found himself wondering if Jamia did indeed enjoy hating Lindsey more than she would enjoy the possibly of actually _dating_ her.

It did spark Frank's curiosity, because sure, with being Lindsey Ballato's 'friend', you did get a lot of built up inner jealousy and hatred, but Jamia hadn't shut up about how amazing Lindsey was until recently, and now, _fuck_ , Frank had no idea what the hell was going on; he didn't understand teenage girls at all, and he probably should be extremely grateful that he wasn't attracted to them.

But Frank was just _pissed_ , fucking _pissed_ , because Gerard Way was all kinds of wonderful and all kinds of horrible, and he was going to tell Mikey about this, and Mikey was going to hate him, and Frank was going to be stuck with Jamia on the angsty homosexual lovestruck emo squad, not that that wasn't where he belonged, of course.

Because Frank totally low-key belonged there, but he totally low-key didn't want to, because he totally low-key wanted some miracle occur and for Jamia to be happy with Lindsey, and for him to be happy with Gerard, and for Gerard to get over Bert, and of course, _himself_ , because the main thing standing between Frank and Gerard was Gerard's ego.

Frank wondered if Gerard's ego was bigger than his dick, because it was most certainly a big ego, but Gerard got laid a lot, so he must have something worth people's time down there. Frank hated how this was the kind of question he could probably text Gerard and get a serious answer for if things hadn't fucked up.

And Frank blushed like hell as he thought about getting off because Gerard had told him to over the phone, and goddamn, _fuck_ , just _what_ would Mikey do to him when Gerard inevitably relayed this information to him, and of course blamed it all on him, because Gerard could never do any wrong, _of course_.

" _Frank_..." Jamia looked up from her laptop, all wide eyes, and uncomfortable, motioning for Frank to glance at the screen too. "Look at this... I... don't even know what to think..."

The screen displayed a status posted by someone Frank didn't know: 'Jimmy Urine', but Gerard was tagged in the status, which read in such an eloquent manner: _'best fuck in a long time, he's got a beautiful cock... - with Gerard Way.'_

And Frank just took a moment to pray that neither Gerard nor this Jimmy had any of their family members on Facebook, especially their moms, or _grandmothers_ , Jesus Christ, Frank cringed as he looked away - it wasn't a big deal, but it was.

Because Frank was just going to _have_ to accept that Gerard was Gerard and Gerard was going to fuck boys Frank didn't know... boys who called his cock... 'beautiful'... Frank wondered if he should have called Gerard's cock beautiful, and he was indeed glad he'd deleted Gerard's number, because if he hadn't, he reckoned it would have taken an awful lot of restraint for him not to text Gerard right then and right there, and just to tell him that he did indeed think his cock was beautiful too.

"My question is just how the fuck can a cock be beautiful?" Jamia exclaimed, shaking her head as she scrolled down, releasing another gasp as she did so.

"It's Gerard, everything about him is fucking _perfect-_ what?" He followed Jamia's gaze and found his eyes widening a certain set of comments on the aforementioned status, posted mainly by a certain Lindsey Ballato.

"She's pissed, she likes him or something, and then Jimmy told her to fuck off and stop being jealous, and then Lindsey put 'what the fuck, his cock is even that great'." Jamia shook her head in disbelief, leaning back against the bed in a fit of laughter, "seriously make a bet, Frank, how long now until Lindsey realises she's fucked up and comes running back to me, and then everything's just ' _normal'_ again."

"Are you going to? If she asks you to come back, are you going to?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamia in confusion, because seriously, he reckoned that not a single thing she'd said made sentence in response to another.

"I don't know." Jamia closed her laptop and put it at the end of her bed, the two sharing a glance as her phone vibrated against her pillow. She picked up and glanced at it, before shaking her head, and uttering a, " _Lindsey_ ," before throwing it back down, and turning back to Frank. "So, do you even know this Jimmy guy because I don’t?"

"No, I've never heard of him." Frank let out a sigh, "I'm not bothered though, because that's just Gerard: fucking people he barely knows, and there's nothing I can do about that, and in fact, I should just be nothing more than relieved that I got out of that mess before he managed to fuck me up really bad, but I'm not relived: I _miss_ him - his stupid face, his fucking whore ass, and his fucking ' _beautiful cock_ '."

"If you say 'beautiful cock' once more I'm going to vomit, and I fucking mean it-"

"Or are you going to _choke_.... on Gerard's _beautiful cock_?"

-

And Mikey reckoned he was made entirely out of self-told lies and self-taught coping mechanisms: a tower, unsteady and able to tumble at any point. A brain clouded with smoke of all kinds, and a tongue that words seemed to freeze upon, and a heart that ached with every dull thud against his ribcage, and of course a stomach with an awful habit of tying itself into knots.

Because he felt like dying more often than he'd ever care to admit, not anyone, not even himself, and especially not Gerard, but perhaps he had uttered it aloud, to the bag of pills or the joint once in a while.

Because he was a self-medicated mess of pills and predicaments, and he was about to keel over at the sight of himself, because his head was a mess and he couldn't quite exhale properly in the darkness of his bedroom; he couldn't quite inhale either, he couldn't breathe, period, but still he wasn't dying, because still he didn't quite want to.

And every time he got like this, he swore to himself that he'd just grab a jacket and _go_ : to the woods, and then keep walking, and just walk until he was lost and his feet didn't work anymore, and just lay down somewhere in the middle of a forest, in the middle of this mess, and cry, fucking _cry_ , because Mikey didn't let himself cry, and like then, he'd curl up, and he _wait_ , he'd curse to himself and wait for himself to die.

And he'd gotten close before: about six months ago he'd gotten to the woods, but he'd turned back because of a man with a dog who'd smiled at him, and somehow it had meant the world: not just the gesture, but Mikey's stream of thoughts and the way it seemed to smooth out the mess in his side.

And perhaps he needed that again, but there wasn't that, there wasn't any easy option and there wasn't an escape because his head just got like this sometimes, and it just didn't stop sometimes, and this was one of those sometimes, and it seemed like it would last forever, but it would pass, but Mikey was stuck in the present and he couldn’t quite escape his own head.

And he was alone, and Gerard was god knows where, and he was so close to making it out that door once again, and this time never to return, but he just couldn't quite do it; he couldn't escape himself, he couldn't escape his head, but still he was drowning, still he was dying, but not really, not _enough_ , because he wanted this to end, just then and there, and perhaps it was the pills, or perhaps it was just the emptiness of his head.

Or the catastrophes that were simple emotions, or the way his heart hammered in his chest when he thought about the boy that smiled like an idiot and meant the whole world.

Mikey couldn't leave him behind.

But he would and he _had_ to.

Because perhaps this time he wouldn't stop himself, because even if he did, he'd find himself in exactly the same frame of mind come a few months time, so what was the point in tying himself down to this hell of a circle; he just wanted out, he just wanted the end.

And suddenly banging on his door; Gerard was home early, and forcing the door open, and pulling his brother into a tight hug as his gaze fell upon him.

"Mikey’s what going on? Please tell me you’re okay, I love you-" Gerard shook his head in disbelief, as he squeezed his brother tightly.

"I... I... I... _what_?" Mikey pulled away: confused, and half sobbing, and barely aware of himself with the amount of pills he'd taken.

"You left the medicine cabinet open and your laptop open, and the house smells of coke, and you get fucked up when you snort it, and you know it but you do it anyway, and maybe that's because I only tell you not to when you're fucked up, maybe I should tell you every morning, but I... are you alright? Why are you crying? Where are the pills... did you take them-"

"Some." Mikey bit his lip, shaking his head a little. "I took _some_ of them. Maybe a _big_ some."

" _Fuck_." Gerard shook his head, slamming his hand against the light switch and illuminating the room. "Can you throw up for me? Mikey... just... go puke... stick your fingers down your throat, you _need_ to puke-"

"No." Mikey shook his head, leaning back against the wall.

"Well it's either that or you go to the hospital and mum finds out and you have to explain what the fuck's going through your head right now, because I'm not really asking and I'm not judging, I just want you to be okay, and you have to throw that shit up, Mikey, _please_."

And as Mikey made his way to the bathroom, Gerard turned to his brother's phone laying upon the bed, and curiosity took the better of him as he picked it up and took more of a glance at the notifications on the home screen than he should have done.

_'Mikey please we need to talk._ ' 

Pete, roughly ten minutes ago.

_'Mikey please I'm so sorry._ '

Pete, roughly nine minutes ago.

_'Mikey please forgive me_.'

Pete, roughly eight minutes ago.

_'Mikey please I forgive you_.'

Pete, roughly seven minutes ago.

_'Mikey please I can't cope with this._ '

Pete, roughly six minutes ago.

_'Mikey please don't make me do this.'_

Pete, roughly five minutes ago.

_'Mikey please you can't do this.'_

Pete, roughly four minutes ago.

_'Mikey please this is my fault._ '

Pete, roughly three minutes ago.

_'Mikey please I'm so, so, so sorry.'_

Pete, roughly two minutes ago.

_'Mikey please I need you to listen to me_.'

Pete, roughly one minute ago.

"Put my phone the _fuck_ down." Mikey stumbled back into his room, his face pale, and his pace uneven, looking almost as if he was about to pass out. "Gerard, put my phone the _fuck_ down."

"Did you throw up-"

Mikey didn't answer Gerard's question, only moving forward to snatch the phone from his brother's grips, leaving it to fall onto the floor, the screen illuminating as it lay at their feet, displaying yet another message, this time for both of the two brothers to see.

_'Mikey please don't kill yourself I love you._ '

Pete, roughly a few seconds ago.

-


	13. I Stopped Watching Orange Is The New Black To Update This

The next morning, Mikey's head was like the morning after a tornado: the whole place wrecked, but not gone, and he knew he had to fix this all, put the pieces back together, and he knew it would be hard, and damn near even impossible, but he had little choice in it, and he _knew_ that for certain as he glanced across his bedroom and saw Gerard curled up at the other end of his bed.

Gerard hadn't trusted him alone that night; Mikey wouldn't have trusted himself alone, but still he yearned for loneliness and a world with the pills and a night where everything made sense, but he had to face reality and more importantly, his _brother_.

Because Gerard had seen it all and still said nothing, and perhaps that was _worse_ , because now as he slept, his mind was clicking away and making assumptions that meant very little, and still all too much, but would never adhere to the truth, and perhaps Mikey preferred it that way, but perhaps he didn’t.

In fact, Mikey's head was in nowhere near the right place to be making assumptions, or any kind of decision for that matter, and he knew that as he lay there in bed, his eyes fixated upon the white ceiling, clear above, and the mess in his head that was simply nowhere near as clear.

He wanted out.

He wanted out of his own fucking head, and perhaps the pills and the ending could have accomplished that, but still, Mikey reckoned he didn't want to do _that._

He didn't want to do that to boy curled up at the end of his bed, his brother who loved him so much, perhaps too much even; the brother who'd tried so hard time and time again, and the brother that was by no means perfect, but easily the best brother in the world.

And as he turned his attention away from Gerard, he realised that he didn't want the same for Pete either, who was all smiles and promises he kept, and stupid ideas, and the capability to make Mikey smile like an idiot regardless of the circumstances. Pete was the worst person in the world, and the absolute best person at the same time, but regardless as to where he stood in Mikey's head, Mikey knew that he absolutely _needed_ Pete.

And he _needed_ Gerard.

And his mother, and Frank, and everyone else that had even mattered for just a moment.

And like that, motivation came, and Mikey Way sat up in bed, and somehow, the world managed to present itself so differently from this angle, because it was so less white ceiling and simplicities that Mikey was little but jealous of, and so much more sunlight, and familiar walls, and a familiar room, and a familiar room.

He glanced between his cellphone and his brother; he glanced between Pete and Gerard, and a decision couldn't be made, but it _had_ to be, and after all, he could only tell Gerard that he was awake, whereas Pete needed to know that he was _alive_.

And _fuck_.

Fuck, what must Pete have _thought?_

God, Mikey's mind certainly didn't work well in that state at all, and perhaps that was his biggest flaw, and god, he wasn't even glancing much at Pete's other messages, simply typing out a quick:

_'I'm sorry, I'm okay, I got fucked up but I'm fine now.'_

And putting his phone back down, before turning to Gerard and wondering where they could possibly start, because they had to, and they _would_ , start somewhere, and Mikey was all nerves and false assumptions that Gerard could do little about when he lay there asleep and unaware.

And he'd have to break this tension in his head soon enough, but he didn't quite have the courage, and after all, Gerard looked so peaceful sleeping, and he wouldn't be anywhere near as peaceful once he was thrown back into the awful reality of what his brother was about to do last night.

Perhaps Mikey shouldn't wake him up at all.

But as he moved in the sheets, Gerard turned over, his eyes opening to meet Mikey's, and like that, the younger boy knew he had little left for him there anymore.

"Morning." Gerard let out a sigh, sitting up in bed and leaning back against the wall: his gaze never leaving Mikey as he did so.

"M-morning." Mikey added, stuttering a little, as he sat there frozen, and fixated upon his brother and what he could possibly say next.

"I'm sorry, Mikey, I'm so sorry, but please don't, fucking _don't_... it gets better, your head sorts itself out, the problems don't seem so much like mountains anymore with time, and-"

"But right now I can't deal with them: I can't deal with myself, and I'm sorry, but I don't fucking _know_ what to do, Gerard." Mikey threw his head back against the wall, tears soon making their way onto his cheeks.

"I know what to do, Mikey." Gerard paused, meeting his brother's gaze, "don't let your mind get into places like that - don't take pills, don't get drunk, because those all _do_ make it worse, I promise you, now, look you don't have to face everything at once, we can go step by step if you want, and you can be six again, and you can hold my hand if you want-"

"Fuck off, Gerard." Mikey rolled his eyes, laughing it off.

"I'm just saying, Mikey, I'm _here_ for you. I'm your brother, I'm _always_ here for you, and I'm _not_ going to give up on you, you got that?" And Gerard meant so much, and fuck, Mikey didn't know how to express that at all.

"So what do I do first?" Mikey asked, letting out a desperate kind of fucked up sigh.

"Well, it's nine in the morning, and you don't have to go to school today - I already told mum you're ill, and _thankfully_ I don't have work today-"

"You have a _job_?" Mikey exclaimed, genuinely shocked by that simple fact.

"God, Mikey, don't sound so fucking surprised, but for your information, I do, I work in a record store, and mum got me it, and it sounds really shitty, but _actually_ , there's this guy called J-"

"Yeah, okay, you got laid at work, _moving on_." Mikey shook his head in disbelief, because Gerard was most certainly something else entirely, but he was still the best kind of brother Mikey could ask for here, because he was here right now, and that was what really mattered, after all.

"Let's get breakfast, and coffee, and then we can take it from there, and one fucking thing, Mikey?"

"Yeah?" Mikey let out a sigh, meeting Gerard's gaze with slightly narrowed and skeptical eyes.

"Fucking _smile_." Gerard grinned, stumbling out of bed, and gesturing for Mikey to follow. "You don't smile enough, you idiot."

"Well since when did you become the fucking smile police?" Mikey rolled his eyes, groaning a little as he crawled out of bed, Gerard throwing him a middle finger as he did so.

-

Lindsey had been fifteen, and there hadn't been all that much difference in the past two years beside the fact that she reckoned that she most definitely had a _much_ better taste in guys, however, just about the rest of the damn world would still argue that she couldn't see a person for who they really were for the life of her.

And Jimmy Urine was proof of that.

Because he'd been the absolute fucking love of her goddamn life for something like three weeks when she was fifteen, and _now_ , now he was just that _kid_ , with the mohawk, and the kind of bendy dick and the stupid jokes - the boy you looked back on and regretted with a passion, and well, she had indeed been having such a wonderful time with forgetting about his fucking ass and the fact that he'd cheated on her for a fucking _cigarette_ , until Gerard just had to make another fucking stupid decision.

The guy made have been older than her, but she was definitely the one with some common sense here, because Gerard was utterly lacking in that department, but he was indeed totally fantastic in bed, so she could see how it all balanced out.

Perhaps Gerard was just really fifteen year old her, and perhaps come two years time, he'd be the Lindsey who sat in her room staring at Jimmy's Facebook profile and shaking her head.

She didn't quite know what to do about this, but she knew for sure that she didn't want Gerard to get into this mess with someone like Jimmy, because he was all kinds of asshole, and all kinds of fucked up, and Gerard had really quite perfected romantic apathy, but Jimmy Urine was something _else_ and Lindsey knew that first-hand.

But of course, the likelihood lay in the matter that Gerard wouldn't believe a single word she said, because Jimmy was just that good; he was the straight to your face liar, the kind of guy that would fucking set his nose on fire just to prove to you that he had the guts, and Lindsey knew like hell that was the kind of person she least wanted to associate with, but her fifteen year old self would of course disagree.

Because fifteen year old Lindsey was a little shit, not that Jimmy was all that much better.

And that was how Lindsey found herself burying her fucking dignity as she typed in a number she knew too well, but fucking _loathed_ , because the actual relationship had been three weeks long, but the aftermath had been something like three months long, and hardcore kind of jealousy warfare for the both of them, and she really did _not_ want Gerard to get caught up in that kind of shit, because Gerard was a nice guy, and he didn't deserve this shit, and Lindsey really should have been calling Gerard, but she was one for confrontation and bitching on the phone at stupid times in the morning.

"Hey?" His voice was kind of drawled out: stoned, and Lindsey rolled her fucking eyes, but really what had she been expecting? Perhaps it was easier this way, because stoned Jimmy was most certainly just a little bit easier to brush off than sober Jimmy, not that sober Jimmy was much of a regular occurrence, of course.

"We need to talk-"

" _Lindsey_!" He gasped, his smirk audible down the phone line, and god she was about to fucking _slap_ herself. "It's been too long, honey, do you want to fuck again, come _on,_ I know you do-"

"No, this is about Gerard and that fucking status and you're talking about him like he's a prize or something, some sort of achievement, some sort of fucking medal for you to wear, and _no_ , no he's not, because unlike you, Gerard is actually a nice person, and he deserves so much fucking more than you do, okay?"

"God, Lindsey, are you being _jealous_ here, come on, this is deja vu to the extreme, don't you think?" Jimmy let out a pathetic kind of giggly laughter, that Lindsey did little but shake her head at, not that Jimmy could see her through the phone, of course, but somehow it was the thought that counted.

"I'm not jealous, Gerard is my _friend_ , and in fact, he should be dating my other friend Frank, and they just fucked up, and we just fucked once, because that's what kind of people we are, and that was that, and where the _fuck_ did you come from, Jimmy? I want you to get the fuck out of his life before you fuck it up completely-"

"I didn't know you were his _mum_ , Lindsey, Jesus, does he know that you're calling to get me to fuck off?"

"No, but I'm gonna tell him what kind of trash you are, Jimmy, you got that?"

"Shut up, Lindsey, you're such a bitch when you're jealous." He laughed a little, before continuing, "but seriously, are you _sure_ that you don't want a fuck, because I'm so ready right now, and we don't live that far away, do we? I could even come over to yours, climb through your window like we're little again if you want, hey, what do you think?"

"Jimmy, I fucking think you're out of your fucking _mind-"_

"I'll leave Gerard alone if we can fuck, because you're always gonna be better than him, aren't you, Lindsey, you know that, don't you, _babe_? You're the fucking _best,_ best fucking fuck, and we ended too fast, and I'm stubborn and you're a bitch, and let's just see how this goes, huh?"

"You'll leave Gerard alone?" Lindsey shook her head in disbelief, because dear god, she was considering this fucking _shit_.

"Of course I will, I keep to my word, don't I? Now, come on, baby, your place or mine?"

"Mine."

And a click, as the called ended, and what felt like somewhat of a life ending blood pact was sealed.

-

"What's up with Pete?"

"What _isn't_ up with Pete?"

Ray narrowed his eyes, and glanced across the room at the particularly emo looking scene queen once more - there was something off, Pete hadn't try to make some stupid pun even _once_ today, and that was some serious fucking shit right there.

"No but seriously, he looks really _upset_." Ray insisted, even going as far as to tug on Frank's arm to further capture his attention.

"Hmm... maybe MySpace is down, I don't fucking know, Ray, I'm not his mother." Frank rolled his eyes, avoiding both Pete and Ray with what was an undeniable force.

"But you _are_ his friend-"

Frank met Ray's gaze, and fucking _laughed_ at him for that, "no, Ray, no I'm fucking _not_."

Ray didn't seem nearly as amused, "that's fucking horrible, Frank, what the hell is up with you?"

"I don’t know, why don't you go and bother Pete about it and then snap at him because he doesn't know and doesn't care, because that's what you're doing with me."

"No, but _seriously_ , Frank, what's up?" Ray grabbed Frank by the arm, forcing him to look him in the eye, as if that might have some sort of affect upon the shorter boy's stubborn nature at all.

"Some shit - it's not important." Frank shook his head and turned away, continuing to focus on just how damn fascinating this maths problem obviously was.

"Well, if it's not important, why is it _bothering_ you?" And fucking _Ray_ always knew what 'not' to say, and Frank was so fucking _fucked_ , and he just wished that Mikey was here today and the two could have snuck off and smoked something in the toilets or something, because that was seriously what Frank needed right then.

"It's just this guy, Ray, it's stupid, and I shouldn't be upset because he's a dick, but I am, and that fucking sucks, and I'm just trying _not_ to think about it, you know?"

"Yeah, well, honestly, Frank with the way you're acting, you're not doing much of a great job." And Frank was never quite aware that Ray could really be that blunt, and he even began to wonder if something was bothering him too. "Just go and talk to Pete, it's upsetting me, he really isn't okay - anyone can see that."

"Why the fuck don't you do it?" Frank snapped, glaring at Ray in a way that the taller boy really should have slapped him for.

"Because I don't need to take my mind off something with Pete's mess of problems, do I? Now go," and with that, Ray gave Frank a gentle shove in Pete's direction, and Frank tapped him on the back, before beckoning him over to their table, because he seriously needed some fucking moral support in this one, even if the moral support was getting all fucking passive aggressive with him.

"You okay, Pete?" Ray asked, raising his eyebrows a little as Pete Wentz, everyone's favourite scene queen sat down opposite them.

"I... I _guess_..." Pete stuttered out, his words shaky, and _fuck_ , Frank was really so fucking clueless, and somehow still Ray was convinced that he was Pete's designated counsellor here.

"Well, that means no, doesn't it?" Ray shot a glance in Frank's direction, before turning back to the absolutely fascinating maths problems in front of them.

"I guess..." And one hell of a blush, and fuck, Frank had absolutely no fucking idea what he was doing and he was totally going to unintentionally morally wreck Pete here, but it was actually one hundred percent Pete's fault, so at the very least, that was in his favour.

"Then explain?" Frank nodded in his direction, because at the very least he wasn't thinking about Gerard, or Lindsey, or even the fucking maths problems for that matter, because they fucking sucked too.

"It's Mikey - he's not here today, and I'm worried about him." Pete admitted, his voice quavering a little as he spoke, and Frank reckoned that it was either the most heart wrenching or most pathetic thing he'd ever fucking seen.

"He's probably just ill, Pete, or I don't know, maybe he even overslept, he's probably _fine_ , he's probably just in bed right now, and he'll probably be back tomorrow, and you don't need to get so upset over it, like-"

" _No_ , Frank, it's not _like_ that!" And with the power in Pete’s voice as he slammed his fist down against the table, quite a few people looked up, but as the conflict seemed to fizzle out like a faulty electrical current, people soon lost interest, bar Ray and Frank, of course, who still sat there completely at a lack for what to say or how to continue.

"O-oh... h-how?" Frank stuttered out, blushing a goddamn horrible shade of red as he did so.

"It doesn't... I can't tell you, because it's a secret and I'm going to keep Mikey's secrets, but something happened last night and I'm _really_ worried about him."

Frank glanced at Ray, all wide eyed and suddenly regretting ever thinking of Pete as pathetic, because perhaps there was more to this than he had ever thought.

"Pete, what kind of thing was it?" Ray asked, turning to face Pete, and thankfully taking over, because Frank was doing absolutely nothing besides grasping at straws here.

"I can't tell you, it's a _secret-"_

"Be vague then, _please_ , it's important. We're worried about Mikey too." Ray added, even going as far as to put down his motherfucking pen, like seriously, those maths problems must have been feeling uber fucking _rejected_.

"It's a bad thing, and it was last night and he texted me about it, but my phone died, so I don't know what else he's said, and I kind of don't _want_ to know, but I have to know, but I-" Pete shook his head, his breathing increasing a little, and Frank was so fucking out of his depth here.

"Pete, is Mikey in _danger_?" Ray continued, his words spoken with entirely too much caution and unease, but it wasn't like anyone could blame him, considering the state Pete was in.

"No one's like... I don't know... it's himself, and I'm worried, and I-"

"Pete, is he going to _hurt_ himself, like do something _stupid_ -"

"I... I... I think he already has." And there was little more they could get out of him, as Pete fell into a fit of fucking _tears_ , and dear fucking god, Frank knew far too little, but still far too much, and he just _needed_ Mikey to be okay, and not just for his stupid fucking smoke in the toilets, but for Pete, for the boy who was crying, for the boy who cared, so fucking _much_.

-


	14. Threesomes Solve Everything!

She knew it was just sex, and strictly so, but somehow that didn't seem to make the situation any better at all, not that Lindsey had really expected it to, because she knew all too well that Gerard had feelings for Jimmy, and she knew all too well that she was fucking him over, in quite a literal sense, as she sat in bed with Jimmy in the aftermath of what she'd done.

Jimmy didn't seem very fussed by the whole ordeal, leaning over to the bedside table and lighting a joint, as if there was nothing wrong with this, not that there  _would_  be, in his mind, that was. Lindsey knew far too much about Jimmy Urine for her own liking, but evidently not  _enough_ , because she still found herself in his bed, even after all these fucking  _years_ , even after she reckoned she'd sorted this mess of hers out.

"You want a smoke?" Jimmy asked, gesturing towards the bag of weed on his bedside table, "pot, I mean, but whatever, I have cigs too. I have a lot of other drugs too - you can have anything you want, Lindsey."

"I want you to shut the fuck up." She snapped, turning away, and biting her lip, because  _fuck_ , fuck,  _fuck_.

" _Babe_... what's wrong?" He let out a sigh, moving in the sheets to sit beside her, and again offering her his joint - this time she accepted, because  _fuck_  it.

"You're wrong, this is wrong: I feel guilty, because apparently, unlike you, I actually give a fuck about Gerard and how he's going to feel about this-"

"He doesn't have to know, and what he doesn't know can't hurt him, can it?" Jimmy grinned, taking his joint back, but Lindsey simply shook her head in response.

"It can, because he  _will_  find out. Gerard's not stupid... stupid enough to sleep with you, but not stupid enough to keep doing it, or at least I hope not, for his own sake, that is." She let out a sigh, meeting Jimmy's gaze in something like defeat.

"And you are?" He raised his eyebrows at that.

"It seems so."

"I wouldn't call you stupid, Lindsey." He added, and he did actually seem to mean it for once, which seemed to shock the both of them, "I'm just  _irresistible_ , but, yeah, this was probably a bad decision on your part, because you get too attached and I don't do commitment, and I prefer guys to girls, and Gerard has a prettier ass than you, I'm sorry, but it's true."

"I know," Lindsey let out a sigh, "I've seen his ass - me and Gerard  _have_  fucked."

"I see a very simple conclusion to this mess, you know?" Jimmy's face fell into a grin - the kind of grin that made Lindsey want to punch him in the face instantaneously, but with Jimmy Urine, that was the only kind of grin.

"Yeah?" Lindsey seemed apprehensive and she had plenty reason to be.

"Threesome. Threesomes solve everything! We have a threesome: you, me, Gerard, and then we can all love each other, and it'll be great!" And Jimmy just sounded far too much like he wasn't joking for Lindsey's liking, or sanity, for that matter.

"Yeah, I'd rather not. Jimmy you're just getting in the way here: Gerard has Frank, and I'm pretty sure that they're going to get back together soon, and Frank’s like three feet tall but he will punch you in the face if you make a move on Gerard... Frank kind of loves him, even, I reckon, but I don't know recently, because he went off with Jamia who's like the epitome of hatred and depression in the universe, like I don't even know if she physically possesses the capacity to smile anymore, and like... we used to be best friends, and then... I don't even know what happened really, but there was one hell of a mess of an argument and now she hates my guts."

"Isn't that just what girls do on a regular basis?" Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't be a sexist asshole, Jimmy, you're already an asshole, you don't want to be a sexist one too." Lindsey let out a sigh, and dragged her gaze away from the fuckboy beside her. "Why the fuck do I keep sleeping with assholes?"

"Because you  _love_  ass." Jimmy finished for her, laughing a little, "you should try anal if you  _love_  assholes so much-"

"Fuck off." She shook her head in disbelief, and seriously considered killing the guy, but talking to Jimmy was better than talking to herself, even if only slightly, it was still something. "I want to fix things with Jamia but I don't know how."

"Literally just text her and tell her that you're sorry and that you'll always be best friends and make some sort of soppy dramatic Facebook post about how much you love her with some weird throwback and some cheesy photo of the two of you from like a year ago - that always works with girls." He continued, leaning back onto the bed, and groaning aloud, "hey, if my advice gets you your best friend back will you have sex with me again?"

"How about no?" Lindsey shook her head, grabbing her phone from her jeans on the floor, "it's not like you've ruined things enough already, is it?"

"I'm not ruining things, Lindsey, you just need someone to pin the blame on, don't you, come on, now, don't lie to me about this." He grinned, watching as she tapped something into her phone. "If this does work, you do actually owe me one, and the easiest way to settle that debt would be a fuck, because otherwise I'll get you drug smuggling or something, and I really doubt that that's something you want to do."

"Jimmy, do you seriously not have anyone else to fuck? Anything better to do with your time?" She let out a sigh, as she hit send on the message she'd typed to Jamia.

"Well yeah, but you're here, like close, and I really  _don't_  want to get out of bed right now, so, you know, convenience?"

Lindsey shook her head: unconvinced, "I'll give you a blowjob if you shut the fuck up, permanently, like get the fuck out of my life."

Jimmy's lips turned up into a grin, "deal."

-

Frank knew exactly what was going to come of this, and still, he agreed to it, perhaps just because he wanted to prove to himself that he was  _especially_  stupid, because this certainly highlighted that fact.

The thing Frank most wanted to avoid in life was seeing Gerard again, and exactly how was he planning to do that? Oh yes, by agreeing to go to Gerard's house with Pete and Ray.

Well, technically, he'd rather say it was Mikey's house, because it was Mikey's too, and it wasn't like he was going to see Gerard; he wasn't even going to see Mikey, he was just providing some emotional support for Pete, because Ray had glared at him in a way that signified that he would indeed blackmail him if he didn't just fucking  _do_  this.

And Frank had as much of a backbone as he had common sense, so,  _fuck_ , there he was, waiting with the two boys on Gerard's-  _Mikey's_  doorstep, but it would be  _Gerard_  who would answer the door, because from what he'd picked up from the other two, Mikey wasn't exactly in the best of states at that very moment in time.

There'd been this whole mess where he'd tried to kill himself, and then Pete thought he actually had, which was mess all around, as you can imagine, but now, he's just kind of emotionally fucked up, and confined to his house or something of the like, because Gerard told their mother, and from what Pete had said, apparently Mikey hadn't spoke to his brother since, and Frank couldn't blame him, because he was very much in the same position with Gerard himself.

Frank seriously could  _not_  face Gerard again, though, because he most definitely would try and get him on his own again and try and talk some 'sense' into him, and Frank knew that today wasn't the best of days, and therefore he was already prone to a few violent urges, and he was beginning to worry for that pretty face of Gerard's, and just what his fist could do to it.

Frank knew for sure that he actually  _hated_  Ray for this, because he didn't  _have_  to be here, Ray had just dragged him into it, and yeah, okay, it was kind of the right thing to do, and Mikey was actually his friend too, but he reckoned that Mikey might be able to understand the circumstances once Frank had explained them to him, and anyway, it wasn't like Mikey was a big supporter of his and Gerard's ' _thing_ ' in the first place.

_'Thing'_ , because 'relationship' was no fucking word for it, and in fact, there was no fucking word for it at all, and Frank didn't even know why he cared so much; it was simply a matter of walking straight past the guy when he let them in, and talking to Mikey, and watching Pete gush over Mikey for a while, and then leaving, again while ignoring Gerard.

But even now, Frank already know that it was going to be  _far_  from that simple, and as the door finally opened and the nineteen year old faced the three of them with an awkward kind of smile, Frank's beliefs were little but reinforced.

"Hey, Mikey's up in his room," Gerard muttered, avoiding Frank's gaze as he did so, and stepping aside to let the three inside, and of course, Frank had to be the last of the three, and of course, Pete had to be wearing a pair of shoes that took twelve years to unlace, so they were stood there awkwardly, Frank and Gerard just trying  _not_  to acknowledge one another's existence, as Ray stood beside them awkwardly.

"These shoes fucking suck." Pete groaned, as he finally pulled them off.

"You don't say." Frank let out a groan, his tone absolutely anything but enthusiastic and it showed, and Gerard was chuckling to himself before common sense kicked in, and there was a part of Frank's mind that deemed it socially acceptable to glare him down for that.

"Jesus Christ..." Ray exclaimed, shaking his head a little, as he looked between the two of them, "you need to sort this out, like seriously, I feel uncomfortable with you two just glaring at each other beside me."

"I don't need to do anything-" Frank protested like the stroppy little teenager he was.

" _Frank_ , we're going to go see Mikey, and you and Gerard are going to sort this mess out by yourselves, okay?" Ray began, Pete making his way upstairs a little.

"Fuck, no that's not okay, I want to see Mikey-"

"You didn't even want to come in the first place, you're talking to  _Gerard_." Ray continued, meeting Gerard's gaze this time, and the older boy didn’t seem entirely so opposed to the idea, which gave Ray just a little bit of hope.

"I wonder the fuck why I didn't want to come." Frank groaned, but watched in disbelief as Ray and Mikey made their way upstairs, and he was left with the actual spawn of Satan, or Gerard, as he was most often referred to.

"So... Frank, how's your life been?" Gerard dragged his words out awkwardly, swallowing hard, as Frank turned around, intent upon continuing to glare at him.

"Shit, how was fucking Jimmy Urine?" Frank decided being blunt was the best way to go about this, and it most definitely seemed to be the way that gave him the greatest reaction from Gerard.

"Alright..." Gerard shrugged off, making his way into the kitchen; Frank followed him, and without a single clue as to why he did so. "He's just another fuck, though, you know?"

"No, Gerard, I don't know," Frank shook his head in disbelief, "I have a conscience, and I don't make a hobby out of breaking people's hearts and fucking with their heads, unlike  _some_ people."

Gerard paused, simply heading to the backdoor and towards the garden in the place of responding, and yet again, Frank followed him, and seriously, fuck knows why he did that. Fuck knows why he even agreed to come here in the first place either.

"Things with Bert are complicated," Gerard began, taking a seat on the grass, leaving Frank, to once again mimic his actions, "I met him like four years ago, we've been on and off dating for four years, and it's always been a weird kind of thing, an open kind of thing, and the only thing I'm used to, and I'm kind of nervous and freaked out about everything else, and  _yeah_ , Bert's an asshole, but he's just comforting, in a way, like... when fifteen year old me need a confidence boost he was there, when sixteen year old me needed a relationship he was there, when seventeen year old me needed every drug on the fucking planet he was there, when eighteen year old me needed help with personal issues he was there, and when nineteen year old me needed someone to talk to in the early hours of the morning when I was slightly drunk and you were asleep and I'd fucked up... he was there."

"And I'm just the kid who you barely know, but isn't an asshole, but is just a  _kid_... and yet, you'll fuck Lindsey, because despite the fact that we're the same age, she's not a kid and I am..." Frank trailed off, shaking his head.

"Is that all this is about to you? Fucking?" Gerard raised his eyebrows, not having quite expected that.

"Isn't that what everything is about with you?" Frank avoided the question, but Gerard already knew his answer.

"Not necessarily." He let out a sigh, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and lighting one, before offering one to Frank.

"I can't imagine you doing a 'relationship' thing, I can't imagine you even possessing any kind of positive emotions." Frank decided blunt, brutal honest was the best idea here, and it seemed like Gerard was something like stuck with it.

"Neither can I..." Gerard laughed a little, "I can do emotions though, I promise, look this is me smiling right now, because I'm happy-"

"Why the  _fuck_  are you happy?" Frank snapped, genuinely curious. "I'm  _not_  happy."

"I wanted to see you again, and you're actually listening to me, and you haven't even punched me in the face yet." Gerard admitted, leaving Frank blushing, just a little, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, of course.

"Yeah, I was planning on doing that later." Frank shrugged it off, still blushing, and doing a terrible job of hiding his face indeed.

"Jesus, Frankie, do you not care about my pretty face? I've got to protect it - it's my only asset, you know, like what am I without the pretty face?" Gerard laughed it off nervously.

"You're so much more than just a pretty face, Gerard," Frank admitted, and he meant it so much more than he'd ever care to admit. "You're...  _you_ , I mean... I don't quite know what to say, I mean, I'm supposed to hate you, but I'm doing a pretty shitty job of that right now, and I think that says a lot."

"Does it now?" Gerard raised an eyebrow, and Frank nodded, leaving the two in an odd kind of complacent silence for the next few minutes.

Frank was the first to speak and break the aforementioned silence. "What happened with Mikey? I didn't get much from Pete, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't even listening to the majority of it... not that I don't care about Mikey, it's just  _Pete_... he cares too  _much_  about Mikey, if you know what I mean?"

Gerard let out an odd kind of nervous giggle, inhaling sharply as he did so, "yeah, kind of... well... I came back home on a Friday night, and I called out to Mikey just to say I'm home, but there was no response, and that was a bit odd, but I thought maybe he just had headphones in, so I didn't think much of it, until I saw the empty pill bottles on the cabinet, and I reckon I had about seven heart attacks then and there, and I stormed upstairs, and started banging on his door, and I...  _fuck_ , I made him throw up, and he turned out okay, and I ended up yelling a him, which I probably shouldn't have in consideration of the circumstances, but I was panicking, you know? And... I didn't ask much, just to respect his privacy, but I was the text from Pete on his phone, and he'd told Pete about how he was planning to kill himself, and Mikey saw me with his phone, and we argued a little, but I just told him I loved him, and I think he was pretty tired already so we just went to sleep, and I didn't think about the pill bottles until mum asked me about them, and of course blamed  _me_ , because I'm of course the horrible child here, but I had to tell her the truth, because she's heard every pill related excuse I've got before, and Mikey didn't like that, and he hasn't spoken to me since, and... and... with both you and him not talking to me, I made some stupid decisions, and I lashed out at Bert via text, and now he's not talking to me either, and even Lindsey hasn't replied to my messages in a few days, but I don't know if that's incidental or not, so all I had was Jimmy... and with Jimmy it was a  _lot_  of sex, and he's a good guy, but he's more of a good fuck than a good guy. I miss you, Frank, I miss  _everyone_ , and my head's a mess too. It fucking sucks, you know?"

"I'm sorry." Frank exhaled loudly, leaning closer to Gerard as he did so, "I'm really fucking sorry, I shouldn't have done that thing with Bert, and I don't like Bert, I'm sorry, but there's no way around that, but he means a lot to you whether you're together or not, like... some people, you just know them so well, that there's kind of no escaping them, is it like that?"

"Yeah," Gerard nodded, "I guess, you're more important than Bert, though, I actually feel like I can talk to you, you know? Because with Bert, I can at first, but then he has this awful habit of throwing everything back in your face when he's drunk, and Mikey doesn't want to see me at all, and ugh... I just... I wish I wasn't such a fuck up."

"You're not a fuck up, Gerard."

"Then what the fuck am I, because it looks an awful lot like a massive fuck up?"

"You're... you're... you're..." And that was when Frank kissed Gerard, because he reckoned that was a hell of a lot better than saying 'I don't know', which was kind of Frank's only other option there.

-


	15. In Which Lindsey Ballato Is Compared To Regina George

Pete knew he shouldn't have sneaked Mikey out, especially with the state he was in, and what Mrs Way had threatened, but he couldn't shake the feeling he got when he looked the taller boy in the eye; the feeling that although he was alive, Mikey was nowhere near  _living._

And that sounded awfully poetic, and perhaps even borderline nonsensical, but Pete knew he had to put a smile on Mikey's face, and this was the first thing that had sprung to mind, because after all, he was pretty sure that Mrs Way had been keeping her youngest son locked in the house over the past week.

It wasn't like she didn't have her reasons, of course, but Pete was with Mikey now, so it'd be okay, and Pete promised himself that he'd look after him and not let one single fucking thing happen to the slightly giddy seventeen year old climbing over the fence of his back garden.

Mikey was like a child: over excited, and high on the adrenaline rush of doing something you weren't supposed to, and Pete overlooked how unnerving it was for the simple fact that he was smiling, because that had been what he was trying to achieve here in the first place, wasn't it?

"I swear that fence fucking hates me!" Mikey exclaimed as he finally made his way over it, brushing himself down a little, as he flashed Pete a smile, "thank you for busting me out, you're like a rogue prince charming or something."

Pete laughed at that, blushing like hell too, because it was apparent that Mikey had simply neglected to turn on the no homo switch this morning, which was having the most wonderful consequences, in Pete's mind, at the very least. "You're welcome." He added, beginning to walk down the alley at the back of Mikey's house, leaving the taller boy following him through the darkness, and to a destination that only Pete knew.

Like seriously, Pete could be kidnapping and killing him, or at least planning to, and still, Mikey would have followed him and listened to every word without a single question, and that was either the best or the worst thing in the entire world.

"I've missed this..." Mikey began, catching up with Pete, "you know? Just... the world, and... like walking, and you, and the air, and I... I don't know... I really don't, I just fucked up, didn't I?"

"I guess." Pete shrugged it off, a blush hugging his cheeks.

"I didn't really  _mean_  to kill myself, it was all an in the moment thing, and too many pills and that was just what it came down to, and I don't think I'm ready to live with the consequences, but I have to, don't I?"

Pete nodded, pausing to just look at Mikey for a moment, "I'm seriously glad you didn't - so is your mum and Gerard, and everyone, so many people, Mikey, you matter so much."

"Yeah... look... it was  _just_  a...  _thing_... like a brief thing, and I... pills... I'm going to blame it on the pills, Pete." And then a pause, "let me."

"What?" Pete met him with a puzzled expression.

"I don't want to face up to responsibility and consequence, I just.... I want to pretend that it isn't my fault, and I want someone to believe me. You can do that for me, can't you?"

"I... I could try..." Pete wasn't entirely sure what to make of this, and just kept walking, this time in silence, as Mikey seemed to shake a little beside him, and Pete wanted to ask:  _everything_ , but he didn't dare, because he didn’t dare know, and he didn't dare imagine, and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to pretend that it was all okay too. "Okay." He added, perhaps several minutes later, catching Mikey by surprise as he did so.

"Huh?" Mikey's eyes widened a little, having zoned out until Pete had spoken.

"I can believe you: I want to, I do. It isn't your fault, Mikey, it's okay, everything’s okay, I just want everything to be okay." He let out a sigh, and quickened his pace: the two nearing the spot at the edge of town by the lake now: the place he was taking Mikey too.

"Thank you." Mikey responded a few moments later, having at first being dumbfounded with the brutality and heartfelt nature of Pete's response, and Pete in general, and his heart started to pound in his chest, and at some point, common sense had begun to kick in, and things had started to make just a little more sense.

Not that it'd mattered, of course.

Who needed common sense anyway?

Not Mikey Way it seemed.

"I think this place is beautiful." Pete began, as they made their way through the trees and out to the lake, "it's like you, I guess, and... it's just calming, I think it'll make you feel better, and I really want it to - I just want you and everything to be okay? And I lay awake at night because I feel like I can't do that."

"Pete, I... I... you shouldn't, you-" Mikey's words stumbled through his lips, finding himself at a loss for what to say, as Pete sat down on the bank, and Mikey followed his actions. "I don't even know what to say, Pete, I'm just sorry, and I'm trying best to be okay, and thank you so much, but you have to put yourself first, you know?"

"I know." Pete nodded, although it really wasn't the most convincing of nods. "I just care about you, Mikey, a lot."

Mikey's face turned up into a smile at that, "thank you, seriously... I know I'm not the best person in the world, but that really means a lot, and I'm going to try to believe you, because I want to be happy so you can be."

And silence, as Pete worked on swallowing the millions of lumps in his throat.

"This place is beautiful as well, thank you... it's... serene, I guess... and the water looks amazing in the moonlight, it's like the world can't touch us when we're here - that's what I feel." Mikey's lips turned up into a smile, as Pete nodded.

"Yeah, that's this place, it's like a bubble, and I feel like I could stay here for a million years and nothing in this town, or in the rest of the world for that matter, could hurt me. I feel safe, and I feel safe here with you."

"Do I not make you feel safe usually?" Mikey asked, raising his eyebrows a little.

"You... I don't...I don't know how to explain it, I just... I feel like I have to impress you, like I have to be a certain way, and like that one day you'll suddenly forget about me or hate me, but when we're here I don't feel like that anymore."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening a little, because Pete did quite honestly mean one hell of a lot.

"Because you're Mikey Way, and you're cool, and you're beautiful, and people like you, and I'm just the weird kid, and I... I don't know, I feel like you're better than me, and I feel like you're tired of me, because you _were_  tired of me before, and I'm scared that it's going to happen again. I'm always scared: I think I'm scared of  _everything_ , Mikey." Pete admitted, his words seeming to echo around the lake as well.

"That’s not true, Pete." Mikey shook his head, his voice quiet, and his gaze elsewhere. "But you're not scared of what my mum's going to say, and how much she's going to scream at you if she finds out that you've snuck me out, and she'll say you're a bad influence, Pete, she really will-"

"I want to make sure you're happy, Mikey, that's more important, because okay, yeah, I'm kind of scared of your mum and what she'll say, but I needed to put that aside for this, and for tonight, because it's worth it, because you're smiling, and I think that's all I've ever wanted to see."

And Mikey reckoned that in the darkness, by the lake, alone with the boy that meant so much in all the wrong ways, he really reckoned he was going to cry. "I'm sorry: I'm so fucking sorry, Pete," and tears were streaming down his face at this point, "I'm so fucking sorry. I can't keep pretending anymore: I fucked up, and I shouldn't have, and I'm so sorry, and I can’t believe I'd hurt you like this, and I hate it, because I feel guilty, I really fucking do, and I just don't know what to do about that, and what to do about you, and how you always seem to care so much no matter how much I fuck up, because I would tell you not to, in fact, I should, but I don't think I could handle not having you here. You mean a lot to me, Pete."

"You mean a lot to me too." Pete answered instantly, moving closer to the boy, and somewhat tentatively, pulling him into a hug, "please don't cry: I don't want you to cry, because I don't know what to do - I just want you to be happy, but I'm failing, aren't I? Because I always fuck up everything, don't I?"

"That's not true!" Mikey exclaimed, pulling away from Pete a little, and grabbing him by the shoulders as he held him just a few centimetres away. "You don't see how important you are, do you? Thank you so much, I'd have none of this without you, I reckon perhaps without you I may have even gone through with it, but I don't imagine you want to think about that, and well, really neither do I. I want to forget, but I can't, and I want everything to be okay, but it's not going to be, is it?"

"What makes you say that?" Pete asked, the two now sat so close they were touching.

"Reality, logic, the world, reason, common sense:  _everything_." Mikey shook his head, his gaze fixated upon the ripples of the lake, and the serenity of the atmosphere; it really did feel like a whole other world out here.

"That's bullshit, Mikey." Pete shook his head firmly, "everything will be okay, and I want to make sure of that, and I am going to, because I  _won't_  let you down, Mikey, and don't you even dare think I will."

"You can't always just fix things, Pete, like I get that you want to, but you're not God, and the world doesn't listen to you, and what you want: the world doesn't listen to  _anyone_ , not really." Mikey let out a sigh, his gaze flickering up to the night sky, and the stars and whole other worlds up there; he wondered what it'd be like to live somewhere else completely, or just to float up there in space, detached from this all, because that's what he wanted, but he wouldn't even dare to consider it if it meant leaving Pete back down here, not anymore anyway.

"I can try." Pete spoke up after what felt like several minutes, "I can try my best because that's the best that I can do, and I can  _hope_  and I can pray that it will all work out, and maybe, just maybe it will. Maybe your mum won't catch us, maybe you'll get better, maybe things will get normal again, maybe I won't be so nervous around you anymore, maybe Gerard and Frank will get back together, maybe things will work out."

"Or maybe not?" Mikey continued, like the poster boy for negativity that he was.

"But we have to try, don't we? Because if we don't then things can only go wrong, but if we do, then there's hope, isn't there?" Pete smiled, meeting Mikey's gaze, "and I promise you that I'm not going to give up on you, Mikey."

"Hope's a false concept, Pete." Mikey let out a sigh, avoiding the shorter boy's gaze.

"You're a false concept." Pete countered, before bursting into laughing, and perhaps Mikey even looked up to offer him somewhat of a smile.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Mikey asked, his eyebrows raised a little.

"I have no idea: it can mean whatever you like, I guess."

"I want it to mean, 'you're amazing.'." Mikey grinned, shaking his head a little, because he knew he was being ridiculous.

"Okay then, because you are."

"Why do you keep being nice to me, Pete?" He laughed it off, "are you in love with me or something?"

"You deserve it, Mikey... but  _yeah_... that too..."

And perhaps then had Mikey never been quite so silent.

-

Because perhaps Jamia was never as okay as she made herself out to be, and perhaps there was a reason behind that.

And perhaps not even walks long enough to lose yourself, in woods deep enough to lose you could render that. Perhaps it had worked for a while, perhaps it had worked for a time, for a time when she didn't have to be happy, or at least pretend, but now with Frank happy again, she had no one to mellow in sadness with, and she was well and truly  _alone_.

And perhaps that was how things would stay, and perhaps that was even how thing  _should_  stay, but even Jamia herself deemed that unlikely as she finally reached the clearing,  _her_  clearing, where her mind could perhaps finally could stop for a moment.

However the aforementioned clearing was perhaps not as empty as she had wished for it to be, and perhaps there was just very little a slightly tipsy, more than fucked up, more than heartbroken Jamia Nestor could do about that.

The emptiness of the clearing was obstructed by a girl, sat down against a tree trunk: all dyed black hair, and al black clothing like some sort of emo reject, and Jamia wasn't in the mood, and was perhaps even considering turning and running, until the very moment that the figure took notice of her, and did indeed nothing more and nothing less than raise her eyebrows in Jamia's direction for a good few minutes.

"Hey." Jamia ended up being the first to speak, and she wasn't particularly happy about it; it was just a better alternative to the silence and painful atmosphere.

"Hey." The girl mimicked, her lips contorting into an odd kind of smile, "you okay? You look kind of taken aback, or something..." She trailed off, bringing a cigarette to her lips, and smiling into the distance.

"I wasn't expecting to see anyone here... that's it..." Jamia let out a sigh, blushing a little: embarrassed, more than anything. "Do you mind if I sit down with you?"

"Go ahead." She gestured to the space beside her, and Jamia sat beside the stranger, perhaps only now thinking it appropriate to ask her name.

"I'm Jamia, by the way, what about you?" She asked, avoiding the girl's gaze as she did so, because this girl had been friendly so far, but there was still something vaguely intimidating about her demeanour and appearance.

"Alicia." She asked, moments later, "so, what's up with you? because you look upset, you know?" She turned to face Jamia now, the two sharing an odd look that they'd perhaps never speak of, but still meant an awful lot; it was a look of understanding, trust, even perhaps, and in that moment Jamia did really reckon herself foolish enough to tell this girl everything about Lindsey and everything about her own pathetic little existence.

"I have this crush on this straight girl who was my best friend but we had this horrible argument and she keeps fucking boys, so many boys, and that's all she does, but somehow it's worse when she doesn't laugh about how bad it was with you afterwards." Jamia admitted, perhaps now bracing herself for the worst of responses, because if she was prepared for the worst then she could never be disappointed, and that, in Jamia's mind, was a sure fire solution.

"Stop giving a fuck about her: straight girls have come  _straight_  from hell itself and they're nothing but actual demons, get the fuck out of that mess." Alicia's face gave way to a small smile. "I know this from personal experience, except me and the said straight girl did make out, but she's gross as fuck... she uses the term 'gay best friend', and fuck, if you're going to put anything like that before best friend then it invalidates the term completely: I'm either your friend or I'm nothing to you."

"I know what you mean, god, this girl, Lindsey's her name, by the way, she had this weird obsession with this gay dude called Frank and she like took him under her wing and tried to set him up with gay guys, and I just... she's all over him for being gay, because that makes him interesting to her, but god, she'd never want to be friends with me the massive lesbian. Frank, that's the guy, is my friend too though, and he agrees that she's a bit over the top at times, but he's still her friend, and everyone else fucking loves her because she'll sleep with anyone who even looks at her, and she's just so fucking attractive that it's impossible, I want to  _kill_  her, I just-"

"Come straight from hell." Alicia giggled a little, "I told you so. Seriously just forget all about her, just punch her in the face or something so she looks a little uglier if that helps - I reckon it'll probably be quite therapeutic too, also slap her if you feel like it. Anything goes."

Jamia laughed it off, shaking her head in disbelief, "I really doubt I'd ever have the guts to do that."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because she's  _Lindsey Ballato_." Jamia let out a sigh, shaking her head, "you just don't understand, it's like she's a goddess, or the actual queen of the school-"

"Sounds a bit more like Regina George." Alicia grinned, "and you're like Gretchen or something."

"And what? You're Cady or something?" Jamia raised her eyebrows at that.

"No, I'm Janis as fuck - goth and gay, and that's actually me." Alicia grinned, really seeming to warm to the whole Mean Girls aesthetic.

"And I'm Damian, too gay to function, of course." Jamia added, grinning a little as she did so. "I am very gay, though, and it is causing me severe problems here, and... ugh... I hate straight girls."

"I really do feel you there." Alicia smiled off into the distance, putting her cigarette to her lips, as the two shared a look: again one that meant something, but something else entirely.

-


	16. Jamia's Horrific Attraction To Satanic Beings

"I'm not particularly a fan of coke."

"The drink...  _or_...?" Jamia's face lit up into a grin as Alicia shook her head in mock disbelief.

"And I thought you were a good girl." Alicia giggled a little, genuinely unable to take herself seriously, as the two sat in Jamia's bedroom, some feminist angry lesbian punk band playing in the background as the two lay on their backs on her bed, as Alicia smoked some sort of substance that Jamia reckoned it was better if she didn't ask too much about.

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Jamia asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You know the whole... cheer squad, popular girl, my best friend is the most popular girl in school vibe-"

"Ex-best friend." Jamia corrected her, as she was of course very insistent about the fact that she most definitely did  _not_ like Lindsey anymore.

"Of course, sorry." Alicia rolled her eyes, giggling a little, before continuing, "but yeah, both, actually, I prefer Pepsi, and cocaine is super bad, like  _white_  powder, that shit isn't goth enough, goddamn!"

" _Pepsi_?" Jamia screeched, sitting up in true horror. "Do I need to exorcise you?"

"Go ahead." Alicia smirked, "I wonder how well you'll get, because I am  _actually_ Satan, after all, as we all know."

"Yeah, I really do know." Jamia shook her head, falling back down behind her. "You're kinda cute for the antichrist, though. I didn't know I could be attracted to horrific satanic beings."

"You had a crush on Lindsey, did you not?"

And let's just say Jamia Nestor may or may not have fallen off the bed with laughter at that point.

"Fuck off." She groaned out, climbing back onto the bed and shaking her head in disbelief. "You're horrible."

"I am Satan after all." Alicia added, grinning like the Satanic being she was.

"Of course." Jamia let out a sigh, jumping a little as her cellphone began to vibrate, she rolled her eyes at Alicia, before picking it up and making a disgusted face, which Alicia laughed enthusiastically at, despite its ridiculous nature.

"Jamia, help me, seriously, I-"

"Frank?" She asked, her eyes widening a little; the two hadn't really spoken in a few weeks now and she'd been unsure as to whether they were even friends anymore.

"Yeah, I... I need to talk, like seriously... I'm also kind of outside your house, and like, let me in,  _please_ -"

"Frank, I.. I'm kinda busy, what's happening?" She let out a defeated sigh, meeting Alicia's gaze as she did so.

"It's fucking  _Gerard_ , you won't believe what he's fucking done, I just- I need emotional support, I'm sorry, I-"

"Frank, I have a friend over, and like- I can't dedicate all my time to sorting your shit with your boyfriend-"

"He's not my  _boyfriend_ -"

"Sorry,  _fuck buddy_  then-"

"He's not that either, that fucking sounds worse,  _please_ , just let me in: five minutes?" He pleaded, his voice even going all high pitched and whiny because that totally wasn't annoying at all.

Jamia moved the phone away from her face and glanced at Alicia, "he needs emotional support, says it'll only take five minutes, he's outside, I'm sorry, I'll be back-"

"Oh, it's fine, I wanna come to, I wanna meet your friends, you know? His name's Frank, right? I'm totally great at advice." Somehow Jamia just wasn't convinced, but Alicia was unfairly beautiful and soon won her over.

"Fucking  _fine_ , and yeah, it's Frank." She let out a sigh, before putting the phone back to her ear, "look, fine, I'm fucking coming."

And with that, she hung up, and the two made their way downstairs, with Alicia perhaps more than eager to meet the small angsty homosexual emo outside.

Jamia unlocked the door, not quite prepared for Frank to barge inside instantly, but yeah,  _okay_ , it  _was_  raining outside, and in turn, Frank was not quite prepared to see that Jamia had other friends than him, especially not intimidating goth girls that were taller than him, not that it took much to intimidate Frank at all, and not that it took much to be taller than him either.

"Oh, this is Alicia, she's the friend I mentioned yeah, and yeah, this is Frank, he's having relationship issues-"

"Gerard is not my fucking  _boyfriend_ , I..." Frank let out a sigh, appearing to have some sort of emotional breakdown as Jamia locked the door behind him.

"So what's the deal then?" Alicia asked, her eyebrows raised.

"He's... he's unfairly attractive and an asshole and we sort of had a thing but sort of not and I think he's slept with everyone on the planet besides me, and I genuinely like him or something, and I just... he doesn't do relationships, and we kind of hated each other, but Ray forced us to make friends again because it was just awkward when we went to see Mikey, and then... well we made up... and then... then I  _fucking kissed_  him and oh dear lord Jesus why the fuck did I do that I want to  _stab_  myself, help me..."

"Don't stab yourself, especially not in my house." Jamia interjected, narrowing her eyes a little.

"I have some pot upstairs, do you think that would help?" Alicia asked, grinning a little at him.

Frank's face seemed to genuinely light up, his eyes widening as a wide grin took over his jaw, as he uttered a definite and perhaps over enthusiastic, " _yes_!"

Alicia turned to Jamia, smirking, "told you, fucking great at advice."

Jamia just rolled her eyes, knowing that a stoned Frank was easier to deal with than a stressed one, and fuck it, because she was tired, and Alicia was insanely beautiful, and Frank was insanely stupid.

"I'll go bring it downstairs," Alicia gestured upstairs, before making her way back to Jamia's bedroom.

"So..." Frank let out a sigh, turning to Jamia after Alicia disappeared, "is that Lindsey point two or something?"

"No," Jamia laughed, blushing a little, "she's  _nothing_  like Lindsey, she's amazing, also we're just friends-"

"You and Lindsey were 'just friends'." Frank pointed out: skeptical through and through.

"So were you and Gerard." She added, but Frank wasn't in the mood, simply flipping her off in response.

"Whatever, she has pot, I like her already."

"Of course you do."

-

At the fault of a late night text, the two had found themselves sat in silence for the first time in forever: just the clearing by the river, the sounds of flowing water, the smell of cigarettes, and the occasional sound as Gerard dug the heel of his shoe into the dirt as he stubbed yet another cigarette out.

The older boy was leaned up against a tree trunk with one side of his body, facing the river at an odd sort of angle, with one knee pulled up to his chest, and one leg dangling precariously over the edge of the bank, and kicking at the odd root on occasion. His gaze was fixated upon the water: flowing and bubbling below, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his hands stuck in a recurring cycle of smoke a cigarette, stub it out, light another cigarette, and so on. But he hadn't said a single word.

Frank was sat with his back to a tree barely a couple of centimetres from where Gerard's foot lay on the dirt, his legs too dangling over the ledge, but with one balanced on top of an odd branch protruding from the bank in some sort of false pretence of support. His hands were pressed against the ground behind him: perhaps too focused, and too nervous to ask the boy beside him for even a cigarette, or something, nevermind a conversation.

Because the two had come out here to talk, and they'd perhaps done everything but that, and it bothered the both of them immensely, but there wasn't the slightest chance that either would consider admitting it, and especially not aloud, because despite the familiarity they had with one another, they reckoned they'd still always be nervous.

Because there'd just  _always_  be something about Frank, and there'd just  _always_  be something about Gerard, and there'd just  _always_  be some stupid reason as to why the two couldn't go together, or even  _talk_  for that matter.

Because Frank was just sprouting excuses in his head, and Gerard was trying to focus on anything  _but_  the matter of conversation, and had perhaps even resorted to watch smoke drift out into the summer air.

It wasn't as if they didn't have what to talk about; they had everything - that  _kiss_ for starters, and awkward conversation and avoiding one another in excess for what felt like years now, whereas in reality had been little more than a week.

In fact, Gerard was even surprised that he'd had the nerves to text Frank and ask him to meet him. Okay, admittedly, it had been at three in the morning and he had been very drunk, but Frank had agreed, and he wasn’t about to back down, because it wasn't like he  _didn't_  want to see Frank, he just... he didn't know, he really didn't know at all.

Because this wasn't how things usually were, and Gerard wasn't sure quite what to make of that, and in turn, he wondered if they'd ever make anything of it, or whether they'd just have a hundred other afternoons sat like this in silence by the river, wasting their time and lives away, until one of them moved on and forgot all about the other.

Gerard winced at the notion of the alternative, stubbing his cigarette out, and feeling an odd unsettling sensation in his chest; he glanced across at Frank, and imagined that one he might not be there, and that it might just be Gerard’s fault, because he'd been too awkward and too arrogant, and too goddamn  _scared_.

And soon enough, Frank had noticed the nineteen year old's gaze, but was still hesitant to say anything, but even opening his mouth to speak, but of course, nothing came out.

"Fuck." Gerard began the first way he could, almost making Frank jump enough to send him falling down into the river. "Don't you die on me, Frank." He let out an awkward sigh, his mind stuck in a loop of the possibility of somehow suddenly losing this odd guy with the hair and the smile and the way of fucking with his head.

"I'll try my best." Frank muttered, somewhat unenthusiastically, as he pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Oh, come on, just sit here..." Gerard let out a sigh, gesturing to the space beside him.

"There's even less space beside you, Gerard." Frank raised his eyebrows, looking up into the older boy's eyes.

" _Yeah_..." He shook his head, blushing a little, "I... I just want to be close to you, okay? Is that really so bad?" He let out an awkward laugh, looking down, and perhaps even jumping himself as Fran sat down between his legs, leaning his back against Gerard's chest.

"This better?" Frank asked, even daring to look up a little.

Gerard blushed, smiling a little as he did so, "yeah, I guess so. But if you fall into that river, don't you dare drag me down with you-"

"I'm fucking gonna, that's not fair - why should you get special privileges?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows a little.

"Well..." Gerard let out a sigh, running a hand back through his hair, "I can't actually swim..." He added, before quickly rushing into a, "don't you fucking dare laugh at me I-"

"Oh my god, Gee... I..." Frank shook his head in disbelief, giggling like a motherfucking idiot. "That's the best thing I've ever heard... you can suck dick but can't swim?"

"Yeah..." Gerard let out a slightly embarrassed sigh, "no wonder my mum doesn't like me, huh?"

"Oh shut up. Of course she likes you." Frank shook his head in disbelief. "She's your mother."

"That means nothing... I don't see why anyone who doesn't want to just fuck me should like me..." Gerard let out a sigh, "I'm just a  _slut_ , aren't I? I'm just someone to fuck, and I get that now, suddenly I understand everything-"

"I don't think that. I like you, I wouldn't mind fucking you, of course, but I like you for  _you_." Frank added, meeting Gerard's eyes to emphasise his point.

"Yeah, I know." Gerard groaned, leaning back against the tree. "That's what's fucking with my head so much. I'm not used to this, I'm not used to you, and I'm not used to the way you think, I'm used to dating and hanging around with assholes, not gonna lie, Frankie, and you're like this really nice, really cute guy, and I-... I don't have to act around you, and it feels weird, I don't like this, but I do, perhaps I'm not used to it, perhaps I'm just better at fucking that I am having normal conversations. But I want to try with you, and I want to kiss again... if that’s okay....?"

"Please kiss me, you idiot." Frank let out a sigh, looking up to meet Gerard's gaze, and then a few moments later, his lips. "You really are  _something_ , you know that?"

"And what does that mean?" Gerard asked, slightly apprehensive.

"I'm not entirely sure, honestly." Frank added, reaching for Gerard’s hand and putting it into his, "but it's a compliment, I'm sure of that."

"You better be." Gerard shook his head.

"Why would I ever insult you, come on, I'm not pissed at you, I really like you, okay you're being an idiot, but so am I, so I'm not going to be a hypocrite, I really just want to spend time with you, because I do honestly just like being with you."

"God, stop being so soppy, Frank, I think I'm going to die." Gerard groaned, making a cut throat gesture, which Frank, of course, rolled his eyes at, but smiled nonetheless, because maybe, even if just for now, things could be okay.

-

Things were however less than okay when Gerard arrived back home: smile still on his face until the very moment he closed the front door behind him, and the sound of yelling filled his ears.

"Fuck." He muttered to himself, kicking his shoes off, and just leaning back against the front door for a moment, wishing he'd stayed with Frank longer, or perhaps even gone home with Frank, because he couldn't deal with whatever argument his mother and Mikey were in, and he most certainly couldn't deal with whatever kind of bad mood they both would be in.

And it all just had to happen at the very moment that Gerard was being to think that everything might just work out okay, but no, things could just never be that easy, and like he couldn't sit there beside the river with Frank forever, he couldn't stand in the hallway forever, he had to face them and whatever shitstorm they'd caused eventually.

And perhaps Gerard's one true weakness was standing up to responsibility and the inevitable, and perhaps today was already too much, but perhaps Gerard was just realising that he didn't have much in the way of a choice, as his mother made her way into the hallway and stared him down with one fucking  _hell_  of a look.

"What?" He asked, as she continued to stare him down in silence, which certainly succeeded in making him just a little uncomfortable.

"Nothing." She let out a sigh, turning and glancing back into the living room at Mikey. "You can talk to him, seeing as you decided to sneak out." And with that, she made her way upstairs to do god knows what, leaving Gerard to make his way almost tentatively into the living room, to meet his brother's gaze.

"What's going on?" He asked, making his way towards the sofa and sitting down beside Mikey. "Are you okay?" He continued, putting a hand on Mikey's shoulder.

Mikey let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall, and shaking his head a little, "it's just some shit: I snuck out last night to go to this lake with Pete and I reckon it's the happiest I've been in a while, but she's all on my ass about it, and I just want to tell her to go fuck herself, and  _ugh_..."

"I'm sorry." Gerard let out a sigh, "what did she mean when she said you can tell me?"

Mikey shook his head in a way that definitely succeeded in making Gerard uncomfortably anxious. "You really... just... Bert called the house phone today, asking for you, saying he misses you, and he wants you to go back and stay with him, and that he's sorry- and don't you fucking  _dare_  even think about it, but mum got really pissed off, and yeah... I'm not going to go into detail."

"I think I’ve finally sorted things with Frank now, actually, I really like him, and I'm sorry that he's your friend or whatever, but-"

"It's fine." Mikey cut him off, smiling a little, "I'm just over the moon that you're not even considering Bert's offer, which you're not, of course, because you're with Frank, and you're all happy and Frank is a decent human being and Bert is a literal garbage can-"

"I don't think he's a  _literal_  garbage can-" Gerard protested, shaking his head a little.

"He is." Mikey insisted, narrowing his eyes. "Say it: Bert McCracken is a literal garbage can, or I'm going to change my mind about being so nice about you and Frank, like I'm totally going to get on his ass about it at school, but that's justified because I’m an overprotective younger brother."

"You're an over annoying younger brother." Gerard corrected him, smirking a little as he did so.

"Say it!" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening a little.

"Okay, fine, god, Mikey, Bert McCracken is a literal garbage can, there you go. Look I deleted his number, it's fine, I promise." Gerard smiled, meeting Mikey's gaze with a newfound kind of sincerity.

"You know that would be perfect, if that wasn't exactly what you said like seven times before, you know? Seven times when you took him back, because you're not exactly the most resilient of people, and I'm not going to let him back into your life, and I fucking mean that.... I... I told mum what kind of an asshole he is... just so she knew... but she took it weirdly..." Mikey let out a sigh, looking away from his brother, "she's getting all weirdly passive aggressive and she's pissed that you let him walk all over you, but it's not your fault, it's  _his_  fault, and I'm trying to tell her that, but she won't listen to anything I say after she found out about me sneaking out because apparently that invalidates every point I have..."

"Exactly how much did you tell her?" Gerard asked, biting his lip a little.

"Not everything, but I did go into detail-"

"Oh for  _fuck's sake_ , Mikey!" And just like that, it seemed like that facade of happiness had been broken within an instant.

- 


	17. Things Get A Bit Gay

Not that Mikey had ever felt all that alive in the first place, but still, he reckoned that there should have been something more, even just from Pete, even just from the boy sat beside him with very little to say for himself.

But it wasn't like Mikey had ever expected Pete to explain this at all.

Fuck, this was nothing more than a sudden slap in the face reminder as to just how horrific school was, and needless to say, Mikey was much less than appreciative of the 'gesture'.

In fact, more than anything, he was just resentful of Pete's silence, not that he held it against him, of course, because Pete's entire purpose in life most certainly wasn't to provide Mikey with emotional support, and as distraught as he may have been, Mikey still knew that, and he knew it like he knew that there was and at this point, perhaps  _had_  to be something more between them, and it had taken the lake and Mikey's mother to ensure that.

Of course, Mikey had absolutely no fucking idea in the world as how on earth he was supposed to process the aforementioned information, and as with all dilemmas in his life, he'd taken to nicotine and the constant decaying of his lungs.

He even considered apologising to them every time he clicked his lighter, because they definitely were in need of some form of an apology at this point, and perhaps even several, because Mikey had frequent fuck ups, and terrible decisions that were little short of even more terrible, and his lungs were most certainly paying the price for it.

And he knew right then that he needed to get out of school: to ditch again, regardless of whether the shorter boy followed him or not, because surprisingly enough, not  _everything_  revolved around Pete, and Mikey needed his life back, and he needed to smoke weed and grumble and stare at stormy skies and leave his mind devoid of any emotion or feeling at all.

And the school building and the boy beside him: all wide eyes and smiles certainly wasn't helping with that.

He couldn't even bring himself to utter a single word before getting to his feet, and doing his best to avoid Pete's gaze even as he did so, not a clue as to how he'd accomplish this, and where the hell he'd even go, he just  _knew_  he had to go, and he had to clear his head and he could most definitely deal with the consequences later.

Or perhaps that was just the irrational part of his brain talking.

Or perhaps the entirety of Mikey's brain was the irrational part.

It was likely.

Very fucking likely.

"Where are you going?" Pete eventually seemed to notice the boy before him getting to his feet and making some attempt at an exit, and Mikey couldn't help but turn, because he couldn't help but care, because Pete couldn't help but matter, and it really wasn't his fault, but perhaps Mikey just needed someone to pin the blame upon - someone that wasn't himself, for a change.

"I... I... I just...  _away_ , outside, you know? For air, for a smoke, for something else, I need space, and I hate this... the silence that demands words, and I have nothing to say and neither do you, but it feels like we  _should_  say something, and I  _hate_  that, I really fucking do, you know?"

"I thought you hated everything." Pete added, a trace of a smile at his lips as he climbed to his feet: the gesture making his plans to follow Mikey evident.

"Well, I  _don't_ , not exactly, but...  _most_  things... like ninety nine percent of things, or something. You're definitely exempt: I could never hate you, and like cigarettes, I hate them, but I need them, and Gerard, I don't hate him, and Frank, because he's a good friend-"

"Where are we going?" Pete asked, interrupting and stepping closer to Mikey as he did so.

" _We_?" Mikey raised his eyebrows a little, taken aback, despite the fact that he'd known this was coming all along.

"Yeah, because I need you and you need me, and we need to talk, and maybe with time, we'll think of something to say, and truth be told, I can't deal with school either."

"Who can?" Mikey let out a sigh, gesturing for Pete to follow him as he made his way towards the gate he frequented as an exit, because this school was seriously fucking terrible when it came to security. "This place kinda makes me wish I  _had_  killed myself, you know?" And Mikey tried to laugh it off, as a joke, even a bad one, but he knew instantly, from the look on Pete's face, that it just wasn't going to slide.

"Don't say that. Don't fucking  _say_  that." He raised his voice, unnecessarily, perhaps, but it was a matter of perspective, perhaps it wasn't.

"I'll say what I like." Mikey rolled his eyes, not ready to deal with anyone at all, and perhaps on the very path to running his life, and fucking up the heart of everyone he even vaguely cared about. " _Fuck_ , sorry, I just... I don't know, my head's all weird, you get that right? And us, because I... I need to talk, we need to talk... things need to be said, you know? They do, don't they?"

"I guess?" Pete frowned, the confusion upon his face making it evident that he'd missed the point; Mikey didn’t fret over it.

"Yeah... do you think we could go to the lake again, like now? You'd have to find our way there, of course, but like, is it even an option in the day time, like of course it is, but it feels magical, like a dream, like it wasn't even real, you know?"

"I know." Pete nodded. He kind of didn't. He kind of did. He was unsure. He just wanted to make Mikey smile. To make him feel better. Or something like that. He meant well at least. At least. What did that even mean? What did any of this mean?

"Good." Mikey let out a sigh, moving just a little closer to Pete as he did so, "I need you, you know? You get me, and that's important, because we work, and you matter, and you make me feel like I matter, you know?"

"How do I? You should know you matter already... shouldn't you?"

"Of course I should, I'm just an idiot, Pete: leave it,  _please_."

"Okay."

And then silence as the two made their way to the lake.

-

"I  _am_  sorry."

And despite how much Lindsey could mean it, it would never be enough, and she'd known that from the very moment she'd even considered fucking this all up, but still she found herself trying, because she was all kinds of pathetic and apologetic rolled into one.

It had been something Jimmy had said at two in the morning the previous night.

Jimmy Urine was hardly the kind of company she found herself desiring at two in the morning, but she was running out of options, and perhaps she had been just about drunk enough to let it slide, and even to let Jimmy talk, to listen, to let everything happen, no matter how fucked up things would get, because with Jimmy they  _did_ , and in fact, there'd be cause for concern if they didn't.

Not that Lindsey reckoned she'd be first in line to raise alarm bells at all.

But that was irrelevant, and Lindsey Ballato had found herself listening to the world's most horrific idiot at two in the morning, with perhaps a little too much alcohol in her system, and perhaps she was just insanely grateful that she was certain that nothing had happened between the two of them.

Because this wasn't how it was going to be, and although she was in quite a mess, she knew enough to know that she couldn't let things fuck up like that again.

And at two in the morning, Jimmy Urine had turned to her, and they'd made an odd kind of sincere eye contact that only seemed to exist in the moment; it was sentimental and most certainly unexpected, especially on Jimmy's part, because Lindsey hadn't reckoned that he was even all that capable of emotion, and showing it in such a way, but perhaps that all changed come two in the morning and a little too much beer.

Because nothing ever lasted: there was nothing you could rely on, and truth be told, Lindsey had become almost overly comfortable with the fact that Jimmy Urine would just be an asshole and someone not to listen to, but, it wasn't like that at all.

"You should talk to her again."

Lindsey had hated how she instantly knew what Jimmy was referring to, and who 'her' was, and why she'd even mentioned Jamia Nestor to him in the first place, but she  _had_ , and perhaps now it would prove its worth.

"You should say you're sorry, because you  _are_  sorry and you miss her, and you look sad, and it's...  _weird_ , Lindsey, it's weird."

And then Jimmy had rolled over, breaking the eye contact like a spell: a trance fading, as Lindsey began to tremble a little, unsure of how to continue, or what to say, or what to do, because Jimmy was right, for once in his entire fucking life, Jimmy Urine was right, and it mattered so much, but it was two in the morning and Lindsey Ballato was drunk, and she didn't know what to say at all.

She didn't know what to do either, and soon, seconds and minutes ticked by before irrationality finally set in: a last response, the most obvious one - a slap to Jimmy's face, and a string of cruse words afterwards as he got to his feet and looked at her in despise, muttering something Lindsey hadn't cared to remember, before making his way out and make one hell of a point of slamming the door behind him.

"I  _am_  sorry." Lindsey repeated once more, facing the present and the hazel eyes, filled with confusion, sorrow, and something Lindsey couldn't place. "You don't look like you  _believe_  me- why the fuck is that? I'm not lying, I-"

"I don't look like anything." He ran a hand back through his black hair, shrugging his shoulders a little. "I'm not saying anything, and that's not what I meant, Lindsey. I'm thinking, and this is good, because you're right, you are right, and you  _should_  apologise to her-"

"Yeah, I've already figured that out, thanks,  _Gerard_." Lindsey rolled her eyes, groaning a little and making one hell of a scene out of her own existence, but since having known Lindsey for more than five seconds, Gerard was already more than accustomed to it.

"Why are you angry?" He let out a sigh, watching as Lindsey got up from the bed: his bed, and not like that, because Gerard and Frank were okay, sort of, now, but Lindsey needed help, and she seemed to have herself convinced that she could only feel good about herself whilst sat in Gerard Way's bed - with or without clothes, or sex, or kissing, or whatever.

It was odd, and Gerard had begun to notice, but he reckoned that now was anything but the time to question it.

"I'm angry at myself: I'm sorry." She let out a sigh as she made her way to the window, looking out into the garden, and groaning internally. "I'm a shit friend to you - you must think I only want to fuck you, because that's what it seems like, but it's not like that. I care about you, Gerard, and I'm very honoured that you seem to care about me too."

"You're not a shit friend to me." Gerard let out a sigh, preparing himself for what he was about to say, and just what Lindsey could possibly find to respond with, but it was of course the truth, and there was no way around that. "You were a shit friend to Jamia. Everyone knows that - Frank told me about that, in detail, actually."

"I didn't mean to be, I just-" Lindsey stammered out, her eyes widening in shock as she turned to face Gerard once more.

"You were a shit friend to Frank to - not that he thinks any less of you, that's just my opinion from what he's mentioned of you." Gerard let out another comment: all too nonchalant, and Lindsey had this terrible urge to slap him too, but then she'd most definitely have  _no_  one to turn to, and she wasn't quite  _that_  stupid.

"What do you mean?" She went for perhaps the more rational approach, gathering her strength and sitting down at the end of Gerard's bed once again.

"For a start, you used the phrase 'gay best friend', and well... you seem... you're not good with people, are you? It's not your fault, you do appreciate people but just not in the way people want you to. It's just different for you, because you see sex and romantic affection as what matters the most, and words as very little, but I think you need to realise that Jamia most certainly thinks differently to you." He let out a sigh, "I think a bit like you, not quite as much, but, I get where you're coming from and I get where Jamia is too."

"So what do I do? Because one simple sorry doesn't feel like enough, truth be told." She brushed her hair from her face, letting out a sigh as she did so.

"Explain. Explain it all to her, and bare in mind how she feels about you, and what there is, and could be between you, because Jamia probably thinks about it all the time-"

"What do you mean?" Lindsey's expression contorted into one of confusion. "How she feels? What are you talking about?"

"No one told you?" Gerard exclaimed, taking a moment to just reassess the situation. "Frank told me. Maybe even I wasn't supposed to know... I don't even know what to say; this isn't my thing to say, or mine to know either, but I think it'd help clear things up in your head, but... you can't let anyone know you know, and especially not that I told you, but I guess this isn't something you can just easily ignore, but I guess you could try, but I don't know... I really don't fucking know, Lindsey, you know? I don't know what to do, stop putting me in charge of your life and your problems, because I don't want to be to blame when things fuck up, because I hate to say it, but I feel like this isn't going to end well, because you're going to find out eventually, and you're  _not_  going to like it."

"Just tell me, Gerard." Her words were something like devoid of emotional, and impatient in nature, and Gerard didn't quite know what to think or what to do, or what this could all mean, and just what Jamia and Frank would make of him when it came around that he'd told her.

But it'd get out in the end.

And she  _would_  react explosively, and perhaps it was better in his bedroom than with Jamia's, because Lindsey wouldn't think rationally, and she couldn't chance really fucking things up with Jamia, because despite this all, she cared, and she always would care about Jamia Nestor, because Jamia was so much more than the best friend, and Lindsey Ballato was so much more than a cliché.

"She has this crush on you." Gerard reckoned it better to not allow Lindsey to butt in, and just keep talking: forcing the words out, perhaps, "and it's been for a long time, and despite all the shit you give her, she cares so much for you, and you might not even like girls, and that's why she hates all these boyfriends, and she's tired of everything, because maybe she's tired of being treated like shit and like nothing, and it's not entirely your fault, because you didn’t know she liked you, but you did know she was a human being with feelings - you've  _always_  known that."

And silence: the  _loudest_  fucking silence that rang in your ears, and Gerard wanted to scream just to rid himself of it, and it wasn't even working against him; he was just the messenger, who perhaps shouldn’t have spoken, but he had now, and there was little left to do in regards to the aforementioned.

Lindsey finally seemed to come to realise what was happening, though, her eyes blinking rapidly as she seemed to plummet back into reality with one hell of an impact, but still very little to say for herself, as she resorted to meeting Gerard's gaze with wide, near teary eyes, and lips that trembled, as if there were a million words behind them, just begging to be let out into reality, but she refused them that privilege, she refused herself speech, and confined herself to the silence.

"Say something." Gerard finally concluded it with what came out as perhaps more of a demand than he had previously intended. "Please, Lindsey, come on, I need to hear something, because I feel like I've fucked everything up, and I haven't even done anything, have I- fuck, that doesn't matter, you matter, what the fuck is going on in your head, tell me,  _come on_."

"I'm an asshole." Lindsey uttered, falling back onto the bed, and leaving Gerard frozen in place for a good few minutes before he moved to join her. "I'm the world's worst person, I'm practically the fucking antichrist," she turned to face Gerard, "aren't I?"

"That's not true." He insisted, in an attempt to reassure her, although, truth be told, he wasn't exactly all that sure himself.

"It is." She let out a sigh. "You don't understand, you didn't know me when I was thirteen, and I had this stupid idea that maybe things would-... I had this stupid crush too, I just beat her by four years."

"You..." Gerard let out a confused noise, "I... I don't..."

"Understand." Lindsey finished for him. "Neither did I. Neither  _do_  I, because I still fucking don't, but whatever, I never told anyone, and I started getting with boys, I don't know to forget it, and it didn't mean much, nothing meant much in my love life, but I was okay, and  _straight_ , because somehow that was imperative and Jamia was just my best friend, and by the time I turned fifteen I was content with forgetting about it completely."

"You suppressed it?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "That's the absolute fucking worst thing you can do."

"I... I was thirteen, I didn't fucking know how to deal with it, and anyway... it didn't matter, but it does now, and I-" She shook her head, "can you forget I even told you? Because I don't- I don't want this, I... I just... I'm Lindsey Ballato and I fuck boys, and everything’s fine in my life, and I just want my best friend back, and she's just my  _best friend_ , and that's that, and that  _will_  be that."

"You can fuck boys  _and_  girls- not at the same time- well maybe at the same time if you want to, you can do whatever. The worst thing you can do with sexuality, or anything about yourself is pushing yourself into a box and closing the lid behind you, because you don't fir into the 'straight box', I can fucking see that."

"And what if I want to, because it's been years and I'm here just fine, I'm just  _fine_ , Gerard, you fucking- you don't know me, you don't know me at all!"

She stumbled to her feet and made her way to the front door, slamming it shut behind her, as tears started to roll down her cheeks and the whole world began to fall apart - right then and right there.

-


	18. Things Get Even More Gay

Lindsey Ballato had been thirteen, well, of course she had been thirteen, considering that she was seventeen, it was highly unlikely that she had just gone straight from twelve to fourteen, but Lindsey had been thirteen when all kinds of vaguely homosexual hell had broken lose.

In fact the fact that she was thirteen was kind of irrelevant, that was just how old she was.

_Four years ago_ , Lindsey Ballato's heart had done the most stupid thing in the world, because Lindsey Ballato from four years ago was possibly even more stupid than present day Lindsey, of course, many speculated as to whether that was even physically possible, but past Lindsey was indeed all kinds of stupid and irrational, but it did seem that thirteen year old Lindsey had certainly outdone her seventeen year old counterpart on the friendship front, considering that four years ago, Lindsey had actually  _had_  a friend.

And that four years ago, Lindsey hadn't fucked it up with everyone, and hadn't found herself curled up in bed, grabbing the box from the corner of her wardrobe: a box not intended to be opened until she'd forgotten the contents - part of some bullshit idea her and  _Jamia_  had had when they were like fourteen, but the contents of the box included many items abandoned throughout the years, that had in the past meant so much to her.

However seventeen year old Lindsey felt little to nothing as she looked over the shoe box: containing three diaries, each with a different coloured cover, a couple of printed photographs of her and  _Jamia_  from when they were younger, and what appeared to be a handwritten letter to herself, and a bag of chocolate buttons that were three years out of date, ultimately proving that younger Lindsey had indeed been more stupid, and that it was indeed possible.

She discarded the chocolate buttons, straight into her trashcan, because she simply wasn't interested in the kinds of prehistoric bacterial life growing on them, and with good reason. She soon turned her attention to the diaries, flickering through and letting herself drown in her younger idiocy, which the most bullshit entries about a plethora of ridiculous and insignificant things that had somehow managed to matter so much in her head at one point.

But it was only when Lindsey opened the last diary that she really found what she had been looking for all this time, not that she dared to admit it to herself, of course: a certain diary entry which she'd made four years ago, agedthirteen.

_'Dear Diary,_

_Today is a Sunday and I stayed with Jamia last night, and, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but something did...'_

-

Four years ago, at some point, it was a Sunday, and thirteen year old Lindsey Ballato was sat in the corner of her best friend, Jamia Nestor's bedroom, with Jamia still asleep and Lindsey still trapped inside her own head, stuck in the realisations that had befallen her: the very realisations which focused so strongly upon the girl just a few metres away from her.

Lindsey had just wished she could have stopped this all, because it was ridiculous, it wasn't going to get anywhere, and it was just giving her a hell of a lot of heart attack, but she was soon finding out that things just didn't work that way, and that perhaps her best friend would always look beautiful to her, and perhaps in a different way than she was supposed to.

Sure, she could suppress it all she liked, and she would, of course she would, but that would never do much to change the truth and the  _reality_  of things, but of course, Lindsey was, and would always be stubborn, as she forced her gaze away from Jamia, and put pen back to paper, scribbling the diary entry that would perhaps change the whole world for her come four years time.

She just didn't know what to do with herself; what this even meant, and when, if  _ever_ , it would just go away, because she didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do, but she just reckoned that perhaps going up to Jamia and all so causally mentioning just how much she wanted to  _kiss_  her wouldn't go down well.

Anyway, thirteen year old Lindsey was certain that kissing was for boys and girls, so she  _couldn't_  kiss Jamia - it just didn't work like that, and thirteen year old Lindsey sat there, unable to imagine herself kissing any boy, even anyone that wasn't Jamia, only to find herself proven so wrong in the years that followed.

But that of course wasn't the only thing Lindsey had been wrong about.

Perhaps it was just the fact that no one had ever thought to mention the existence of anything besides heterosexuality, for fear that it could somehow 'taint' her, but even with all the heterosexuality they'd drilled into her, she found herself aged thirteen, and seemingly 'untainted' by it, because even thirteen year old Lindsey had figured it that this wasn't something she'd  _chosen_ , but something that was as much a part of her as her eye colour.

It had been the Lindsey in the years to come that had done the most damage, that had disagreed with reason and herself, that had forced these feelings away, and had remained adamant in her heterosexuality, such an attitude stemming from the moment when she was fourteen that homosexuality was finally introduced to her, but of course, only ever with negative connotations: with words like 'faggot' and 'dyke', words that she'd grow to hate, and words that with naivety, she'd misused.

And with time, she'd become more tolerant, she'd become somewhat more of a decent person, but she'd hidden the very thing that it had all stemmed from deep down and away from sight, even to the extent where she was close to forgetting of its very existence, but it had been Gerard and a secret he shouldn't have shared, but did regardless, that had brought it all coming back to her like a slap in the face.

And sat on Gerard's bed just an hour or so ago, Lindsey had felt very much the same as she had four years prior, sat in the corner on that Sunday morning with the diary entry that finally seemed to click everything into place.

It was like deja vu, and it hurt her head, because she didn't want it this time either, but she was determined not to make the same mistake twice, because no good had come of her suppressing it, which left the logical option to be the opposite, to  _accept_  herself, and this mess that was all coming back to her suddenly like a slap in the face.

And it suddenly it was simple: all she had to do was  _explain -_ she had to find Jamia and she had to find the words, and they'd come to an understanding, and Lindsey could be thirteen again, trying it all over again, and maybe this time she wouldn't lose both a friend and herself.

-

"I wish I could just like wave a fucking magic wand and you'd be happy."

"Me too." Mikey admitted: his tone less enthusiastic, but by no means less sincere.

"So you want to get better? You  _want_  to be happy, see Mikey, it's simple, you just-"

"I don't... I just want  _you_  to be happy." He pulled his knees up to his chest. "If I ever get better it's always going to be just to keep a smile on your face - it breaks my heart when you don't smile, you know, for real?"

"I thought you didn't  _have_  a heart." Pete scoffed, shaking it off. "I thought there was some bullshit like that... I thought that was your excuse-"

"What are you talking about, Pete?" Mikey asked: an expression of confusion, and narrowed hazel eyes, that Pete was absolutely head over heels for.

" _Us_ , or whatever..." He flushed, turning his gaze away from Mikey, and focusing his vision upon the lake: letting it serve as a distraction, as anything he needed, and perhaps more.

"I..  _no_ , Pete, it's not that, it's not- it's nowhere near that, and I fucking promise you, okay?" Mikey let out a sigh, grabbing Pete's hand, and effectively stopping the shorter boy's heart as he continued to hold it, just casually, like this was how things were just  _supposed_  to be.

"Then..." Pete almost forced the words out, struggling to breathe, let alone speak with the lack of air in his chest. "Then... w-what, are you-u?"

"I'm scared." Mikey admitted, "this is just... I don't know: my head's not in the right place and we need to talk, and here we are talking, but I'm scared and I'm stalling, and you deserve so much more than the boy who needs to get a grip on reality and himself, because he can't change the world. I'm a bad influence, come on, would you be out here in school time without me?" And as Mikey expected, Pete had to shake his head. "I know: I know you, Pete."

"Do you?" Pete asked, eyebrows raised slightly, and hand still shaking against Mikey's: still in an odd sense of disbelief when it came to his current situation and perhaps his existence in general.

"I think so." Mikey admitted, "I know you like me, I know you deserve better, but I know myself too, and I know I'm selfish and fucked up, and in one hell of a bad place right now, and I know we need to talk about this... we can't just let it slide, let it fade away, because that'll just make it worse, won't it?"

"You sound like you know what you're doing." Pete told him, his voice hushed, with no need to be any louder, and content like that: just like a secret, just for the two of them to hear.

"Do I?" Mikey scoffed, giggling a little, "well,  _thank you_ , because I'm really just fucking winging it, like everything like all the time, but I don't want to do that with you: you matter."

"Stop it." Pete insisted: all red cheeks and stumbling over his words.

"Stop what?" Mikey asked what was a genuine question.

"Just saying things to make me feel better, to make rejection easier: tell me it straight, well not  _straight_ , but tell me how it is, treat me like I'm  _normal_ , because I feel like you're not, I don't want to be  _special_ , I don't want to be  _different_ , I just want to be fucking  _normal_ , you know?" Pete raised his voice, and of course, instantly regretted it with one hell of a blush and a butchered apology, that Mikey accepted regardless, because Pete practically encompassed everything good in his life.

"It's not like that." Mikey told him, and it was indeed the truth, but it hurt far more than any kind of lie: lodging and stumbling in Mikey's throat as it clung to him, unprepared for the outside world, for Pete to hear, for Pete to know, and perhaps even  _understand_.

"Then what  _is_  it like?" Pete asked, his tone more cautious this time, and Mikey swallowed hard, finally beginning to accept the truth, even to repeat it to himself in his head.

"I don't... I like you too Pete, but I don't know what to do with that, you know? All I see is a million reasons why we shouldn't date." He admitted, gripping Pete's hand tighter in a gesture that neither boy really knew the meaning of.

"And because you're focusing so much on that million, you\'re ignoring the  _billion_  reasons why we  _should_." Pete added, all smiles despite the subject and despite the words escaping Mikey's lips.

"Pete,  _please_ -"

"Please what?" Pete asked, sighing as he met Mikey's gaze, "please, just listen to me, you know I'm right, don't you?"

And Mikey did, but he just didn't know if he was quite ready to admit it to himself, because as always, he was one hell of a mess, and a simply spectacular coward.

Mikey only nodded, squeezing Pete’s hand and leaning into the other boy's side. "We were supposed to talk, but I  _can't_ , I'm sorry, can we just... later... can you just... can we just be happy for a while now?"

"Of course." Pete smiled at him, blushing like hell as he pulled Mikey closer into him.

And perhaps that was how easy it had always been, and perhaps that was how easy it would always be, but Mikey, being pessimistic at best, couldn't help but doubt that, and everything, because he just sat there, treasuring the moment as he sat in wait for the inevitable fallout, because it  _would_  happen, he just wasn't sure if he could bare to face it with someone like Pete, because Pete Wentz was perhaps the most important person in the world to Mikey Way, and in Mikey's opinion, should be the most important person to everyone else too.

"Thank you." Mikey added, a genuine smile on his lips, which was certainly a rarity when it came to Mikey Way, needless to be said.

"For what?" Pete asked, looking at the taller boy with confusion.

"For  _everything_."

And then a silence that had no need to be filled, because perhaps in that moment,  _everything_  was truly perfect, even if just then.

-

Lindsey was a mess, and in such a state, she'd deemed it a perfect opportunity to attempt to rectify the friendship she'd fucked up in the most sincerely spectacular of ways, because Lindsey Ballato was indeed a royal fucking idiot, and indeed royally proud of it, but within the past day or so, she'd come to conclude that her idiocy wasn’t the only part of her she should have been proud of.

She wasn't quite sure what label to use, or what even to say, but it was obvious:  _blindingly_  obvious with it all laid out like this. Lindsey Ballato liked girls, like she liked boys, but somehow this all just seemed to matter a hell of a lot more, and she wasn't even planning to get together with Jamia: that was irrelevant, but this had all seemed to have grounded her in a sense; gotten her head out of the clouds, or perhaps her ass, or well, more realistically, some dude's pants, because Jamia Nestor was one hell of a girl, who deserved so much better than Lindsey Ballato, but that really wouldn't stop her trying at all.

Because if this was only just going to make things worse, then so be it, because she'd  _tried_ , hadn't she? She'd tried, and she'd meant it, and if Jamia just didn't want to be her friend anymore, which was of course completely understandable, then she'd just have to accept that, but if this was her finally sorting herself out and getting her best friend back, then this was perhaps the only good thing Lindsey had done in her lifetime, which was kind of sad.

Because Lindsey had done lots of things, but by a vast majority, these  _things_  were fuckboys, and not 'being a good friend' or 'showing some sort of decency or compassion to people who cared about her ever'.

But still, she knocked at Jamia's door, and found herself, hanging there, waiting in consequence and the hell it brought on, because she couldn't face this: she couldn't face herself and her own mistakes, but as she stood there, shaking all over, she came to conclude that perhaps she couldn't just change her mind and turn around now, because she'd fucked up enough for a whole fucking lifetime already, and she longed for one good decision amongst a multitude of mistakes and spectacular fucks up of every kind.

And perhaps Lindsey had gotten herself so caught up in her own head and the matters of talking herself into this, she didn't even notice as the front door opened, and a girl stood before her: a girl who really  _wasn't_  Jamia at all.

And that wasn't even some sort of shitty, vaguely pretentious metaphor, like this was  _not_  Jamia, this was actually someone else.

"Uhh...  _hello_?" The girl asked, looking at Lindsey with widened eyes as she struggled to fill the silence and find out just what the hell she actually wanted.

"I'm... uhh... I'm looking for  _Jamia_..." Lindsey trailed off, blushing and suddenly losing all the confidence she'd managed to fake in the past minute or so, "it's fine, I'll just  _go_..."

"No, she's here, she made me get the door, though." The girl reached out, putting her hand on Lindsey's shoulder and pulling her back. "Can I ask just who you are, you know? I'm Alicia, by the way."

"Oh..." Lindsey blushed, wondering if she was even able to speak to Jamia at this point, and whether it'd just be better if she left and came back later, of course, later would soon turn into never. "I'm Lindsey-"

Alicia's eyes seemed to light up with a kind of rage that Lindsey had never seen before, which certainly set her off, to say the least. "Lindsey..." Alicia repeated, stepping forwards a little, as if to make certain that Lindsey didn't get inside.

"I... uhh...  _yeah?_ " Lindsey was all kinds of confused, and even just ready to leave and admit defeat and her own fuck up.

"I've heard a fucking  _lot_  about what kind of a bitch you are, you got that? You fucking  _leave_  and you fucking don't ever come back; she doesn't want you, and she especially doesn't want you  _here_ -" And Alicia was about to slam the door in Lindsey's face, before footsteps and a familiar voice filled the hall behind her.

"Who is it? Why are you taking so long?" She asked, making her way to the front door.

"It's nothing, it's no one-" However, Alicia wasn't quite quick enough, as Jamia peered out side at her ex-best friend before Alicia could quite manage to close the front door.

" _Lindsey_?" She exclaimed, even pushing Alicia aside to meet her ex-bestfriend, "what are you doing here?" She met Lindsey's eyes with an odd kind of disbelief, like she was still largely certain that this was some kind of fucked up dream and couldn't possibly be real, but she wasn't awarded such a 'luxury'.

"I'm sorry." Lindsey began, her words sincere, but Alicia shook her head immediately, discarding them in an instant.

"Jamia, look, just come on, you know what she's like: she doesn't mean it, just come back inside-"

"Alicia, I'm fucking  _sorry_ , but she was my best friend, not yours, and I think I have a fucking better idea as to what she's like than you do, or has that never crossed your fucking mind?" Jamia shook her head, closing the front door behind herself as she stood outside to meet Lindsey. "Fuck, I probably should have put some shoes on," she added, glancing down at her bare feet: cold against the concrete of her front door step.

"Yeah..." Lindsey smiled, "look..." she exhaled loudly, "I've been a stuck up bitch, and I'm so sorry, because I'm only just realising how much you matter, and I just... I just... please forgive me: I'd be so fucking grateful if you could forgive me-"

"Frank said something to you, didn't he?"

"No..." Lindsey trailed off, "it was something Gerard said, actually, but it was  _my_  decision... I'm  _so_  sorry-"

"It's okay... I forgive you, I've been a bitch too, and I just miss you, and I just had to make out that I hated you to cope with that, and I've fed Alicia so much  _bullshit_  about you that she's certain you're the antichrist or something, I'm sorry too. I doubt she's going to let me back inside with you here... look, I'll come over later, when she's gone and we can talk,  _properly_?"

And Lindsey smiled like she was thirteen, and she'd just realised how  _beautiful_  her best friend was.

-


	19. Things Get Gayer Still

"So are you  _boyfriends_  now?" Gerard asked, perhaps all too casually for Mikey's liking: the younger of the two brothers, finding himself constantly on edge in regards to the subject, and well, perhaps,  _everything_  - perhaps that was just Mikey, perhaps that would just always be how he was.

"Huh?" Gerard continued to ask as Mikey seemed to make a point of ignoring his question, perhaps attempting to pretend as if he'd never heard it in the first place; Gerard wasn't going to let him get away quite that easily though. "Come  _on_ , Mikey, yes or no? Whatever, just talk to me, will you? Are you pissed at me or something?"

He let out a sigh, shaking his head, "no, Gerard, I'm not pissed at you, I'm just..." He trailed off, glancing down at his bedroom floor, "I don't know actually, I don't know."

"You don't know if you're boyfriends or not, or you don't know if you're pissed at me or not?" Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows, pulling his knees up to his chest, and making it apparent that he was in no rush to get up off his brother's bed, which he was sat on, or get out of his brother's room, which he had 'invaded' just a few minutes prior, much to Mikey's dislike.

"I don't know!" Mikey exclaimed, sitting down on the bed besides his brother, and reaching under the bed for a packet of cigarettes, which he'd put just a little too much effort into hiding from Gerard to just whip out in front of him, but right now, Mikey was prepared to do anything just to get this asshole he had for a brother to shut the  _fuck_  up.

"Just talk, talk to me, Mikey.." Gerard trailed off, watching as his brother put a cigarette between his lips and began to light it, "give me a cigarette too." He added, pushing his luck with an odd, hopeful smile.

Mikey rolled his eyes, and passed the packet and his lighter to the nineteen year old. "I'm really hungover." Mikey announced, gaining quite the eyebrow raise from Gerard.

"How come?" He asked, putting the cigarette between his lips and clicking the lighter as he waited for Mikey's response.

"Got drunk last night." Mikey shrugged it off: stating the obvious.

"Yeah I'd gathered that by now." Gerard let out a sigh: words muffled by the cigarette between his lips, and spoken from the corner of his mouth, "but what happened last night? Just  _talk_ to me."

"Went out." Mikey shrugged it off, once again, "just some people, some alcohol, something to get my head clear, get my stomach clear: of fucking butterflies that is - Pete's fault. He's so nice, just fucking  _nice_  and cute, you know?"

"I know enough about cute boys to last me a life time, trust me, Mikeyway." Gerard slipped into a grin, holding his cigarette absent-mindedly in his hand, gesturing wildly as he spoke, somehow invigorated instantly by just the mention of cute boys, fucking  _Gerard Way_ , what a big gay.

"Yeah, I gathered." Mikey let out a sigh, "Frank is kinda cute, not that I'm gonna steal your boyfriend, just yeah, Bert looks like he's always been punched in the face though."

"Usually because he has." Gerard shrugged that comment off, because it was mostly true, and Gerard knew that first-hand. "He's an asshole - gets what he's given."

"Oh, so you're no longer in denial of Bert McCrackheadassholeface-"

"Don't be such a prick about it, Mikey, he's got a lot of shit to deal with, he's just going to have to deal with it, without me being his boyfriend, or even his friend, because... that's not for me anymore." Gerard smiled, and Mikey was perhaps more proud of his brother in that moment than he'd ever been more proud of anyone.

"So yeah, I got drunk, because Pete Wentz is ruining my life, because I  _like_  him, so much, too much, and I'm a mess, and everything's just...  _perfect_ , with him, like in the moment, but I come down from the highs and I have to drown everything out in fucking cheap ass nasty vodka-"

"You don't  _have_  to." Gerard corrected him, narrowing his eyes, "you're just  _choosing_  to, and you can stop, whenever the fuck you want: remember that, that's important. You don't  _have_  to do anything."

"Except go to school." Mikey added, groaning at even the notion of such a ludicrous invention.

"Of course." Gerard smirked, "how is school, anyway? I haven't been in more than a year now, can't even really remember what it's like-"

"Fuck off." Mikey groaned, falling back onto the bed, "so do I... you know... with Pete, do I just... what do I say? What do I do?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows as he mimicked Mikey's actions, blowing smoke in his direction as he did so, because he was a fucking  _spectacular_  asshole, and he was indeed immensely proud of himself for it.

"You're older, you've had two more years of experience in romantic failures. And I need the help, and I'm asking you because I'm desperate and you're in close range, and you walked into my room and I don't want to make this a pleasant experience for you, because I can't risk you wanting to come back."

Gerard smiled, shaking his head, "but now I know what you're doing, so I'll come the fuck back-"

"No, no you won't." Mikey continued, his voice stern, "anyway, how do I even approach it really, because we're like... like together, but not  _together,_  and I just-"

"Just use  _words_ , Mikeyway." Gerard began, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and in Mikey's head, it was really  _anything_  but. "Be like, hey Pete, I like you, and your dick, wanna fuck-"

"Except I don't wanna fuck him because I'm asexual, Gerard." Mikey let out a disgruntled asexual sigh.

"Yeah, you know, interpret and adjust it as you wish, be like, hey Pete, I like you, and your...  _smile_ , wanna cuddle?-"

"I'm not fucking  _saying_  that-"

"Well from the way you're going it doesn't sound like you're saying anything, does it?"

"Fuck, fine, I'll fucking say something, I'll say so much, come on, Gerard you are not ready, I'll fucking fight you on this, I will say so much, I will recite the entire fucking dictionary, I-"

It was then that Pete appeared in the doorway, very confused as to what was occurring in Mikey's room that very moment, letting out a slightly overwhelmed and very concerned, "your mum let me in..."

And of course, Gerard practically died of laughter.

-

Lindsey was all nerves and anxieties: a mess, to put things as they were, however, she was of course, nowhere near comfortable admitting such a thing to herself, even it was the blatant truth, and even if there was absolutely no way around it, which there wasn't, until Jamia finally came over and they finally spoke, but still then Lindsey would be fucked up as hell, so perhaps after the conversation - if Lindsey survived it, that was.

The aforementioned was still a matter of question in her mind, because she couldn't quite believe that she'd actually convinced herself that she was going to do this...  _properly_ , for real, with words, and explanations, not fucks up and everything that made no sense at all - not with boys that meant nothing at all, but the one girl that mattered more than the rest of the world combined: she was special Jamia Nestor was, and she always would be.

Jamia was special, truly  _special_ , in her nature, in her person: a permanent state, whereas Lindsey's appeal, and valued existence stemmed solely from her appearance, the way she acted, who she fucked, and Brendon Urie, who she'd kicked in the balls last summer, but those things wouldn't last forever, and one day she'd find a crowd to impress, when she didn't look as pretty as she did now, when she was nervous as hell, and with no of whom she'd slept with, and with no convenient Brendon Urie to kick in the balls, and in that very moment, Lindsey Ballato would be dragged by millions of eager hands right down from her pedestal and into the kind of hell she belonged it.

But then, Jamia would still be special, she'd still matter: she  _always_  would, and one day, perhaps five years down the line, it would be Jamia in the spotlight, and Lindsey as that almost not quite friend, who you knew the face of, but couldn't quite put a name to, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, sure, for Lindsey’s ego, it was, but Lindsey was soon coming to the earth shattering realisation that her own ego wasn't the most important thing in the world, and that over people did indeed matter more, perhaps Jamia Nestor specifically.

She missed her already: she'd had little more than a short conversation with her. She needed to see her, she needed to set this straight, just before she had time to chicken out, and freak the fuck out and run over to Jimmy fucking Urine, or someone equally as disgusting, and  _lie_  her way back down to the hell she'd locked herself into.

Lindsey was  _scared_ , scared both of Jamia and what she could possibly say, but of herself too, and what she could possibly do to fuck this up further: the ways her mind could twist and wreck everything even further - it didn't seem possible, but it was: so  _fucking_  possible, so  _fucking_  real, and she didn't quite trust herself.

She didn't deserve this opportunity, this forgiveness, Jamia entirely, at all, and she knew that, but still, she knew even more that she wasn't about to give it up for the sake of the way things 'should' be, and what she did or didn't 'deserve'; Lindsey wasn't that kind of person, Lindsey would  _never_  be that kind of person.

She wasn't sure if she even wanted to be.

She just wanted to be  _herself_ , to set things straight- okay, straight was a bad word, given the circumstances, but set things bisexual didn't make all that much sense, or pansexual, or fucking  _anything_ , honestly there were more varieties in sexuality than people Lindsey had slept with, and seriously, that was a  _lot_.

However, she didn't quite have the time to fully ponder her sexuality and all the  _boys_  she'd fucked: anything really, just to keep her mind of Jamia, and just how badly everything could, and undoubtedly  _would_  go, however, there soon came a knock at her door, and Lindsey's whole body tensed up immediately, because there was no question about what this was:  _who_ this was, and just what kind of a mess she could make, effectively  _completely_  wrecking her friendship, or whatever was left of it, with the girl on the other side of the door.

But still, she felt like she didn't have much choice or control in the matter, and found her legs even moving for her: to the door, to Jamia, to the worst kind of confrontation, to perhaps the one thing that really mattered, because this was either a spectacular hit, or a spectacular miss - there was no inbetween - there wouldn't be inbetween anymore, and perhaps it was better off that way.

Lindsey couldn't quite figure that one out: perhaps it was something to do with the lack of oxygen going to her head, as she found her hand shaking around the door handle, and every breath a struggle: pathetic, it was, after all, but this was Lindsey  _caring_ , this was sincerity, and that counted for something. She could make it out to count for more than it ever would, of course, and she would, because that was the kind of train wreck Lindsey was, but that was besides the point, as her whole existence seemed to focus in on the door handle and the act of opening it, and the girl on the other side, now growing impatient and offering another knock.

Her knock followed, a few moments later by a hesitant, and somewhat awkward, " _Lindsey_?" It was evident in her voice, even in just that one word, that she didn't know what to think, what to make of this, what to do, and perhaps she was just as clueless and fucked up as Lindsey was in that moment, but Lindsey brushed even the notion of that off, because there was no way she deserved something like that, something along the lines of forgiveness;  _she'd_  fucked up, and Jamia needed to accept that.

Perhaps Jamia already had, and perhaps this was the forgiveness that followed: perhaps it was something completely different, perhaps Lindsey was just overthinking things, or perhaps Lindsey was just racking her brains for every excuse not to open that door.

However, the excuses soon came to a halt, and her palm grew sweaty around the handle, and pushed, opening the door, and letting everything fall apart as she met Jamia Nestor's eyes, suddenly finding the whole world: the meaning of this all, why it all mattered, and what she had to say, and  _god_ , how fucking beautiful Jamia was.

Perhaps she'd been wrong.

She'd been wrong many times, of course, although she had trouble admitting it, pretty much always, but this particular time was suddenly so  _fucking_  important and so fucking terrifying: it had Lindsey's heart  _pounding_  in her chest, but it was  _good_ , in the most fucked up way this was the best thing she'd ever had, and she found herself perhaps  _overly_  aware of that.

She'd been wrong when Gerard had told her about Jamia's feelings, starting this all in the first place. She'd been wrong when she said that she had no feelings for Jamia anymore, because the look in her eyes, and the way her heart thudded in her chest made the lie so fucking  _apparent_ , in fact, Lindsey wouldn't be all that surprised if Jamia could just read it off her, in fact she wanted her to, she wanted all the talking and explaining to be done for her, but that just wasn't how things worked.

Lindsey wasn't that lucky, and Jamia was once again growing confused and impatient, and Lindsey's palms continued to sweat, in fact, she was sweating a little all over, as gross as it was, it was kind of a hot day too anyway, but she was just that  _nervous_. Too nervous. More nervous than she should ever be, regarding a girl she had been so comfortable with, a girl she would have still been so comfortable with, if she hadn't been the one to fuck it all up completely.

But she couldn't change that now.

And she  _hated_  that, more than she'd hated anything ever: this was a new hatred, a true ten out of ten, reserved for so long, and with good intentions, now to be put to good use, by the 'confident' girl who couldn't even force out a single word to her  _best_  friend, of so many fucking years.

But of course, it was all so  _different_  like this: with her heart pounding in her chest, and everything  _mattering_.

Lindsey wondered if it had been like this for Jamia all along.

She wondered how Jamia had coped; she’d been such a bitch, and perhaps she would always be a bitch, even in silence, even in shaky breaths, and a world and feelings that didn't make sense. It was permanent: perhaps the only permanent thing about her, and Lindsey wasn't exactly ecstatic to accept it, but she had little choice in the matter.

And if this mess she felt for Jamia had been worth something, it was worth the knowledge that acceptance was always the fucking answer, and perhaps the only thing she  _could_  do.

"You should probably say something." Jamia was the first to break the silence: her words delayed, of course, but still enough to make Lindsey even more uncomfortable than she already was, but Lindsey didn’t, and perhaps  _couldn't_  take it personally, perhaps she needed Jamia to insult her, perhaps she needed to feel this, perhaps she needed to feel  _anything_ , because this was  _so_  different, this was falling for someone...  _properly_.

This was fluttering heartbeats, and dilated pupils, and smiles, and a lack of breath, and everything she'd never experienced before, because she'd fucked perhaps every guy she knew, and not a single one of them had ever made her feel anything like Jamia Nestor had, and all in such a short space of time.

She was  _special_ : Lindsey had been right about that, at least, but of course, that was never anything but an undoubtable  _fact_.

"I don't know what to say." Lindsey finally conjured up something in the way of a response, avoiding Jamia's gaze as she did so, for fear of judgement, for fear of everything, for fear of Jamia, for fear of herself, for fear of the world, and what she could possibly make of it, what she could make of this.

"Just tell me what's on your mind." Jamia let out a sigh, her tone sort of dull, oddly expressionless, and perhaps Lindsey would have picked up upon it if she wasn't finding it just so  _insanely_  difficult to think right then.

"You." Lindsey said, and it was the truth: it was the abbreviated truth, but the truth nonetheless.

"How so? Please just... you're lucky at me different, I don't get it: I don't know why, what have I done? I'm sorry, I just want-..." She trailed off, letting out a sigh as she did so, "I don't know what I want, Lindsey, I just want us to be happy, I just want to know you again: I'm fucking  _tired_ , tired of pretending to hate you, and pretending to care about every fucking stupid thing you've ever done, and Frank's problems with Gerard, and fucking  _boys_ , and the whole damn world, and your 'boyfriends' and who you sleep with, and just... we could start this all over again, we could, we could make it right: it could work."

"It could work." Lindsey repeated the words aloud, her heart thumping in her chest, perhaps even to the extent that it was beginning to  _hurt_.

"It could, and it would, and I just, I just want to understand you, Lindsey, because right now, with your silence and your looks, I feel like that's something I can't do, and I  _hate_  that, not you - I  _don't_  hate you, and I want to make that  _explicitly_  clear. Things need to be clear, this time around, so just tell me your feelings, what's on your mind, make everything fucking  _clear_ , I... I...  _need_  that..."

And as Jamia trailed off: cheeks ruby red, Lindsey had a fucking stupid idea, and of course, she couldn't manage to think for herself before just acting on it, because Lindsey was perhaps just as stupid as the idea itself.

The idea, of course, was based on the saying: 'actions speak louder than words', and okay, the silence was still deafening, but Lindsey could perhaps have spoken and rambled for hours, and her feelings still wouldn't be as clear as she'd just made them with a  _kiss_  to Jamia's lips.

-


	20. Things Get Hella Gay

They went for a walk, because yes, it was kind of awkward when Gerard couldn't stop laughing his motherfucking gay ass head off when Mikey was trying to grow the balls to tell Pete how he felt, and perhaps finally do something worthwhile with his pathetic existence for the first time ever.

Because this mattered, and it mattered a hell of a lot more than it should, well realistically, in the terms of reality, but in the terms of Mikey's head, and how cute Pete was, especially when he smiled, then yes, this mattered just as much as it should, however, not everybody in the world had the same outlook as Mikey did, and unfortunately, Gerard was one of them.

But at the very least, this walk gave them time alone, which meant time alone from Gerard, however time alone ensured there would be no distractions - no way to change the subject, no way out of it, and no way Mikey could just give up entirely, and perhaps, when he looked back, that would appear as a good thing, but truth be told, in that moment, for Mikey, it seriously wasn't, and there was no avoiding that.

And Pete was starting to grow uncomfortable in the silence: eager to find out just what the fuck was going on and get some answers and some explanation from Mikey, however, Mikey was just about prepared to do  _anything_  but that, but of course, he could never face Gerard without just sitting it out and setting it straight- well, really  _not_  straight, but setting it gay didn't quite have the same ring to it at all, or homoromantic, god that sounded  _worse_ , perhaps even worse than his situation, and Mikey would even argue that the aforementioned wasn't an overstatement.

"Mikey?" Pete was of course the first to break the silence, punching the air with his words as the two stopped for a moment, on their walk out Mikey's backdoor, and well, to the middle of fucking nowhere, judging by the field they'd found themselves in, but at least like this there was no one around to judge them, because Mikey cared far too much about what other people thought - it had even been like that from the first day, and the major impression he'd made with his shirt, and neither Pete nor Mikey could ever forget that day.

"Yeah?" It took Mikey embarrassingly long to answer: to even just get his brain to functioning correctly and to stop himself from dying inside. "Fuck, I..." He let out a sigh, brushing his fringe from his face as he did so. "This is really awkward and you don't know what the fuck is going on, but- hey, what did you even come to talk to me about? Like why did you even come over? Let's talk about that, let's talk about fucking  _anything_ -"

"Besides the thing you need to say." And it seemed that Pete had seriously just read his fucking mind. "It's obvious; you need to say something, maybe Gerard told you that you needed to, or he just convinced you of it... whatever, Mikey, you need to say it."

"Just tell me something bullshit, just say why you came over, just talk bullshit at me first, I'm... I’m still nervous." Mikey cursed, choosing that spot in the field as the perfect one to stop and sit down on. "I think I'll always be nervous,  _fuck_."

"Yeah, you will." Pete added, "that's why it's probably better just to say it now: I'm not gonna hate you, I could never hate you, I care a lot about you, Mikey."

"It's not, it's just..." Mikey let out a sigh, "why did you come over?"

"No real reason, I just wanted to see you." Mikey met him with a look of disbelief, "oh come on, is that really that bad? Am I not allowed to just  _want_  to see you, because I like you, because we're friends, come on, Mikey, we're friends, we're best friends, and we even-  _fuck_... that’s what it's about, isn't it?"

"What?" Mikey stuttered out, his cheeks burning up as he spoke.

" _'Us_ ' or whatever that could possibly mean. You don't- is this you finally getting the guts to reject me, because I've seen that coming and it's fine, just, just tell it to me straight so I can move on and we can just be normal friends again, and everything can be okay again, because I want it to be like that too, Mikey, I just want us to be normal again, I just want. I just like you, you're my best friend, and I just, it was from the very moment I saw you, but I care more for you as a person and our friendship than stupid crush feelings-"

"It's not like that." Mikey let out a sigh. "Maybe I'd prefer it like that - it'd be easier, come on, Pete, don't lie, it'd be easier for me to look you in the eye and say I want us just to be friends, that I don't love you, but I  _can't_."

"Why not?" Pete found himself daring to ask; his voice shaking like hell itself.

"Because I can't lie to you, Pete, and that would be a lie. I thought you'd gathered that now, but fuck it, whatever. I like you... you know what I mean, I just... I-"

"You want to date?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening in pure disbelief. "You like me too?"

"Of course I do." Mikey stuttered out, "I'm just- I'm scared, but this is me accepting that I'm no better off fucking myself over in denial and trying to cope with this, so fuck it, here we go. Pete fucking Wentz, I have no idea what your middle name is, I-"

"My full name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III-"

Mikey looked at him in disbelief, "I don't know if I can believe that, but I really want it to be true, Jesus Christ-"

"Mikey, just say it, you asshole." Pete let out a giggle, "I know how you feel, you know I feel the same, you know I'm going to say yes, just say it: make this real, stop fucking everything over because you're scared, just this once?"

"Pete Wentz, will you...." Mikey let out a sigh, getting ready to stab himself through the head, because  _fuck_ , this was so hard, why the fuck was this so hard? "Be my boyfriend?"

"No." Pete snapped, before turning to Mikey with a grin, "I'm just kidding, of course.  _Yes_. You're my boyfriend now - no turning back now, motherfucker."

"I hate you."

-

"Wow, fucking  _wow_ , Jamia." Alicia let out a sigh, losing all of her shit right then and there as she met Jamia's eyes and regretted perhaps ever even meeting the girl, because there was no way around the fact that very little good had come of this mess of a 'relationship', because even Alicia knew that it was always about Lindsey, and it had always been about, and of course, it would always be about Lindsey.

To Jamia, Lindsey was the sun, and Alicia was the moon.

And Alicia had to accept that, and dear god, she was fucking trying, but she couldn't help but hate her, Lindsey especially, because all that Jamia had said couldn't have had absolutely no origin whatsoever, could it? It didn't settle right in her stomach, but she knew that look in Jamia's eyes and she knew it was for Lindsey and never for her.

She'd only come to speak in the silence; the two sat beside one another on Alicia's bed, Jamia having come over with the intentions of talking this out, and setting things straight with some sort of explanation, but instead, it was like someone had stolen her car radio, because they'd just sat in silence.

However, Alicia had only come to speak as she'd noticed Jamia's cellphone in her hands, of course, she was fucking texting Lindsey, fucking kisses and fucking shitty ass cute emojis, and Alicia was supposed to just  _sit_  there, just let it happen, just fucking deal with it, and just fucking pretend that she never had any feelings for Jamia Nestor at all.

It was ridiculous.

And so was the amount of time it had taken Jamia to figure out some sort of response, because despite the fact that she'd came over with the intentions of talking things out, she was in no mental state to say anything worthwhile.

"What?" Was the best she could come up with, and her tone was rather half-hearted and pathetic to boot, leaving Alicia to wonder why she was even trying with the girl who'd done nothing but make a mess out of everything, because Alicia never  _had_  to know Jamia, and they never  _had_  to get this close - that had been Jamia's decision, much in the same way that it had been Jamia's decision to throw that all back in her face and fall back in love with Lindsey Ballato the very moment she said as much as a simple 'hello' to her.

"This is fucking ridiculous." Alicia let out a sigh, unsure what to even say for herself anymore - this was a perpetual mess, it was, always would be, and always had been, even from the word go, even from when they were strangers, and Alicia Simmons lived in the innocent ignorance as to just who the fuck Lindsey Ballato was.

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?" Jamia's voice came out snappy, and with a lack of patience, but fuck, Alicia couldn't exactly blame her - this was something like one of the worst situations, because Alicia still cared, but Jamia didn't. It was obvious, Jamia was only here for the apology and the karma points it brought - she didn't care at all.

"Stop being such... such a..." Alicia trailed off, her words weighted and heavy in her throat, "such a fucking conceited bitch," she snapped, losing all sense of dignity, because fuck Jamia Nestor,  _seriously_.

"How am I being like that?" Jamia exclaimed, getting to her feet in a state of offense, but through and through, it was still evident that every word from Alicia's mouth, no matter how weak, no matter how powerful, would still mean nothing at all.

"You hate her. She says one word to you. You hate me." Alicia cursed under her breath as she pulled her gaze away from Jamia's, "doesn't fucking make sense, does it?"

"It's not like that - you just don't  _understand_." Jamia exclaimed, brushing her hair out of her face, and just wishing she could have Lindsey here, because Lindsey just always knew what to do, and she was coming off apathetic, painting herself as the bitch here, when really, she had just never been sure of herself, and she needed someone, Lindsey more than anything, and perhaps Alicia had just served her purpose for a short time. That perhaps sounded just as heartless, but from where Jamia was standing it made perfect sense.

"Then tell me how it is, come on, it was you who came here to talk. Not me." Alicia did a good job of reminding her as such, leaving Jamia cursing under her breath, because fuck this, fuck her dignity, fuck manners, fuck being kind, fuck Alicia's feelings, fuck what was going on in her head, fuck it all.

"I'm in  _love_  with Lindsey!" Jamia exclaimed, her voice perhaps just a little too loud, but perhaps she just couldn’t give much in the way of a fuck about that.

Alicia was dead silent for a moment, her gaze perhaps  _anywhere_  but Jamia's. "Even when you swore you hated her?"

"I had trouble accepting it, you know, I just- I don't  _want_  to be in love with my thought straight best friend, do it? And then I thought I could suppress it, and-"

"Even when you swore you fell for me?" Alicia met Jamia's eyes this time, because she wanted the truth; she  _needed_  the truth, or she doubted she'd be able to live with herself for all that much longer - she just needed this to end, she just needed Jamia Nestor to be another name on a photograph she'd find ten years down the line, she just needed this girl to be nothing more than someone she was perhaps friends with a couple of years ago, but now it was the present, and Jamia Nestor was the girl who didn't love her back.

"Yes... I just-... I was desperate for something else, for someone else, for something that might work out and not drive me insane, because yes,  _fuck_ , Lindsey was driving me insane, come on, that's obvious, isn't it?"

Alicia just laughed at that, "I was the back up plan, wasn't I? Fucking  _touching_ , isn't it, Jamia?"

"I've always  _loved_  her, I just... I didn't know what to do about that, I don't know what to do about it still, I just love her, and maybe for the first time in forever, she's returning those feelings, and I can't just run away from this, because I never really loved you... you were-"

"A distraction." Alicia choked out, "to forget, to lie to yourself."

Jamia nodded.

"You're heartless."

And part of Jamia just wished Alicia’s words could be true.

Because Lindsey would always be the sun, and Alicia would always be the moon.

-

Lindsey was perhaps  _too_  concerned, perhaps too nervous, and still perhaps not nervous enough, not really, because here she was, holding Jamia Nestor's hand in public, being publically more than heterosexual, because fuck if she knew what label to define herself with, and she indeed far more concerned with Jamia and this mess of a perhaps relationship than what word she'd used to describe who she was attracted to, because right now it was just:  _Jamia_... (and a few fuckboys).

"You're shaking." Jamia pointed out, a small smile at her lips, "it's fine, Lindsey, I promise you, and come on, we're just going to the park, it's like ten at night, no one's out anyway, barely anyone can even see in the dark."

"It's more of the way it  _feels_ , to me, personally, than how it actually is, if you get what I mean?" Lindsey blushed a little. "I've spent so long holding this in, hiding it even for myself, because this was always the worst thing in the world to me, this was always the part of myself I couldn't be, and now, it's just... it's just  _this_  - it's nothing to everything in like four point five seconds and,  _yes_ , I'm fucking shaking."

Jamia laughed a little at that, "you're cute." She noted, not like Lindsey didn't already know, but whatever. "You don't have to hide anymore, you shouldn't have ever had to hide."

"I've always been scared of who I am." Lindsey admitted in the night time silence as the two approached the park, "just in different ways, just like... I had to be confident and loud, and bold, and I had to, I had to be the badass hot girl who'd fuck anyone, because it hides the me I'm scared of showing."

"You hid yourself, even with me?" Jamia exclaimed, standing still for a moment as she came ton understand all that Lindsey was telling her, "that's,  _fuck_ , I'm sorry, I wish you felt like you could trust me. I'm not pissed at you, don't even think that, it's just... I wish I could have been the kind of person you felt like you could trust-"

"It wasn't you. It's never been you." Lindsey smiled, stopping and pulling Jamia closer to her; the two hidden in the treeline in the corner of the park, "it's just me, and my stupid head and the irrational thoughts, and bullshit expectations and what people, and what I, thought I should be. You never really... you just wanted to be there, with me, you just-"

"Lindsey, I was a bitch to you too, don't lie here. We were both bitches to each other, but that's fine now, because now we're over that, and you're so  _fucking beautiful_ , and it's been forever of me saying that, and you making some stupid straight girl remark in response, and I've spent my whole life just wanting to scream at you that I meant it in a fucking  _gay_  way."

"Dear god, Jamia Nestor, you are  _such_  a lesbian." Lindsey cursed in disbelief, laughing a little as she shook her head. "You're so fucking beautiful too."

"Shut up, I'm-"

"And what were you saying about stupid straight girl remarks?" Lindsey exclaimed, taking absolutely zero bullshit from Jamia right then and there, or even anymore, because perhaps that moment was symbolic, because perhaps, right then and right there, a different Lindsey was born, one that was proud and comfortable with herself, one that didn't have to fuck straight boys to prove something to the world and herself.

"Okay, fuck, fine, what would you deem an appropriate response then, Lindsey Ballato?" Jamia giggled as she spoke, looking up at Lindsey with the most endearing look in her eyes, like she had absolutely everything right then and right there, in that one simple moment, when a beautiful girl meant the whole world, especially when she would say 'I love you back'.

Because Jamia had loved Lindsey from day one, she hadn't perhaps known it, and she'd spent perhaps forever trying to hide it from herself, because she was much like Lindsey in that way, because everyone in this world was scared of nothing more than they were scared of truly being themself.

"Tell me you want me to kiss you, because I want to kiss you." Lindsey blushed, brushing her hair from her face as Jamia giggled a little.

"Just kiss me then, you asshole."

"No, I'm fucking- I'm  _nervous._ " Lindsey insisted, continuing to blush like hell, her cheeks perhaps burning up in the moonlight and the look in Jamia's eyes.

"Okay, fine, you piece of shit," Jamia laughed the most beautiful laugh in the world, or at least that was how Lindsey saw it, "will you kiss me?"

And let's just say that Lindsey did, and without a moment's thought.

Being herself and nothing more, nothing less, for perhaps the first time in her life, and really kissing Jamia Nestor was not what she'd imagined as her point of self revelation, but fuck, Jamia was fucking beautiful, and she couldn't care less.

She couldn't even care less if everyone she knew appeared out of what seemed to be nowhere and stared at the two of them, kissing, and being themselves, because fuck it, Lindsey wasn't scared, not this time, not anymore.

-

 

 


	21. Things Get So Gay The Story Combusts And Ends

"Hold my hand, you fucking idiot." Jamia looked at Lindsey, and perhaps in that moment, the two knew everything would be okay.

And thirteen year old Lindsey Ballato smiled, as seventeen year old Lindsey Ballato took Jamia Nestor's hand, and in that moment, the school hallways didn't seem so forsaken anymore, because fuck what people said, fuck everyone who cared, because no one should, because this was just the same as Lindsey holding the hand of a boyfriend, but it wasn't - it wouldn't be that simple, and Lindsey hated that like she hated herself for ever thinking that this wasn't what she wanted.

She hated herself for lying, when lying was practically all she had ever done.

But she wasn't afraid anymore, and that was Jamia Nestor at work, in her mysterious lesbian ways, and Lindsey was back in her own mind: memory lane, when Jamia was always just there, always just telling her no, trying to get her out of trouble, because Lindsey's whole life was a great big string of mistake after mistake, and Lindsey had never once listened.

This was the payback, this was her listening and trusting her ex-best friend with everything she had.

Because the thing was that Lindsey and Jamia had ever become best friends again, and Jamia was still as much her ex-bestfriend as she'd always been, because they'd become girlfriends instead, and Lindsey was happier than she'd ever been.

It all made sense, and she couldn't care less what the world could make of it, what she could make of herself, what manner of second guessing could ruin this all, because for the first time, everything wasn't just about her, but about Jamia.

Everything in the world revolved around Jamia Nestor, and Lindsey Ballato quite honestly could not be happier.

"Wait, are you two-" All of a sudden, the fuckboy alert alarm bells were going off in their minds as a certain Brendon Urie came into view, with a certain 'oh my god lesbians exist' expression upon his face, and really Lindsey couldn't help but laugh at him, because he was the biggest fuck up in the existence of the world that she almost fell sorry for him, but from now on, she was making a point of not sympathising with fuckboys.

"Are we what?" Lindsey snapped, narrowing her eyes at him, watching as Brendon seemed to relive the events of last summer in his mind: events regarding the kick to the balls, and just how much of a dickbag he was.

"Are you..." He began once more, glancing to Jamia, who was only glaring at him with slightly less disgust, and that was only because Jamia had just a little more patience than her girlfriend, and absolutely nothing to do with Brendon Urie or any kind of hope anyone might have in him, because he was Brendon fucking Urie, and if you had hope in him, you didn't have hope in yourself.

"Are we what?" Lindsey repeated, growing only furthermore impatient and disgusted with his existence and that big fuckboy forehead. "Come on, fucking talk, say something or fuck right off!" she found herself shouting at him now, and Jamia couldn't help but giggle in disbelief, still holding on tight to her girlfriend’s hand.

"Y-you... you're... you've been converted!" Brendon shrieked, turning around and looking for someone to give a fuck about him; he had struggle in doing so, much to everyone's great 'surprise'. "You're a lesbian!" He shrieked at Lindsey, clearly unable to take the fact that two girls might want to date each other as opposed to him and his far too big forehead and nowhere near big enough cock.

"No." She shook her head at him, raising her eyebrows as she did so, "not a lesbian, try again."

"You're holding hands!" He gestured to Lindsey and Jamia's hands, "why are you doing that if you're not a lesbian! It's a gay thing, why are you gay- you're not supposed to be gay! You have sex with dudes, and I was-"

"I'd rather kill myself than go near your tiny little dick, Brendon Urie." She continued to yell, gaining lesbian power as she continued to smite the fuckboy, soon she'd have enough lesbian power to pull off the move to finally defeat Brendon: the lesbian kiss.

"What turned you gay, Lindsey? I can help change your mind-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm not a lesbian-"

"So you're not dating Jamia?" Brendon looked between the two of them with that kind of fuckboy suspicion, but he evidently still hadn't quite gotten it yet.

"Yes, I'm dating Jamia." Lindsey continued, glancing at Jamia for some sort of help here.

"Brendon," Jamia began, having preferred slapping herself to conversing with the king of the fuckboys, but she did a lot for Lindsey Ballato, that was already obvious. "What's it called when someone likes boys and girls? Two genders? The thing with the prefix that means two?"

"Oh my god! You're a bisector!"

"No, Brendon, that's that thing from maths, with the angles." Jamia tried to explain, but no, it had already gone to Brendon Urie's massive fucking forehead.

"Lindsey Ballato is a bisector!" He turned around, yelling into the corridor, and leaving everyone confused more than intrigued.

"Do you mean bisexual?" Someone shouted back, and the corridor fell into silence, because oh my god, no homo.

"No, I said bisector, that's what I mean, are you stupid?" Brendon yelled back, and Jesus Christ, Lindsey couldn't stop herself, before she landed a fucking kick to that guy's balls, still holding onto Jamia's hand as she did so.

And in that moment, it was last summer again, just a whole load more gay. It wasn't the gayest summer in existence, of course, like this wasn't 2005 and they weren't on Warped Tour, but it was getting pretty close.

"So Lindsey," Jamia began as people rushed to see Brendon Urie curled up on the floor, crying his fuckboy tears onto the floor, "are you a bisector?"

"Are you, Jamia Nestor? Or should I say Jamia Bisector?" Lindsey giggled a little.

"Don't be stupid, I'm a logarithm."

-

He found himself perplexed entirely by the message and just what those simple three words could possibly mean, they were, of course, what they were at face value, but this was so much more, with Bert, it had always been so much more.

But not anymore it seemed: reduced to three words in a text message, the first text message in months, and the only text messages in months that really had Gerard stopping and thinking, just holding his cellphone in his hands, and staring at the message on his screen, as if it might disappear the very moment he did so much as look away, although Gerard wasn't entirely sure as to why he didn't encourage the disappearance of it, because he wanted to forget all about Bert McCracken.

But this was different.

The three words were different.

And Gerard looked over them at least a thousand times as he stood in his bedroom, letting the world tick by around him, because in that moment, he'd allowed Bert McCracken to be the center of his universe, to matter the most, and he hated that, he hated it with all he had, because he wasn't sixteen anymore; he wasn't scared anymore, he wasn't the kid who was discovering a whole new world, and he didn't need to hold some asshole's hand to guide him through life.

He reckoned he could do alright on his own, but still, the three words remained, and still Gerard remained fixated: sympathetic, bordering empathetic, understanding, words he'd never dream of associating with Bert McCracken, but he stood there, feeling everything Mikey would hate him too, because perhaps suppression of feelings, good or bad, was the worst thing he could do.

This meant something, and there was no way around that; this meant something and it would always mean something, it was perhaps even the most important moment Bert and Gerard would ever share, and it all lay within three words written over text message.

And in the silence, towns away, impatient fingers typed out another: 'Gerard?'

The younger man let out a sigh, because they both knew he'd seen it: both messages, totally to four words now, and a not entirely necessary piece of punctuation, but Gerard wasn't exactly one to complain about a lack or an abundance of grammar, it was just everything he could possibly do to stop thinking about the first message and how he was supposed to respond, what he was supposed to think, and whether he was even supposed to believe him or not.

Because did Bert ever mean what he said? Did he ever mean anything? Did anything ever matter when it came from him? To Gerard's sixteen year old self, it certainly had, to a younger, more naive, more trusting version of himself, it had, but to the man who stood and struggled to believe anything, those three words, were just that: three words.

Three fucking words and it didn't matter if Gerard believed them or not.

And then, a third text: 'you don't believe me, do you?'.

And Gerard thought for a moment, because he was still unsure, and Bert seemed relatively uninvasively, like he'd said the words for the matter of saying them, and for nothing else, to gain nothing else, and Gerard stood there, thinking for a moment, unable to comprehend what this could possibly all mean.

'I believe you, but I'm confused.' He responded, Bert seeing his message instantly, and beginning to type out a response just as fast.

'Confused? I mean it.'

'Why?' And Gerard didn't know how Bert was at all supposed to answer that one, fuck, he didn't even know what he wanted to hear, he just wanted this to be all okay.

'I took advantage of you. I'm so sorry.'

And the second time, those three words seemed to mean all that much more, and Gerard began to consider forgiveness, began to consider the three words that constituted Bert's apology, and perhaps the only apology Bert would ever make in his life that held any meaning.

'It's okay. I'm with Frank now, though.' Gerard found himself brushing over the matter of whether it was really okay or not, because he had plenty of nights to keep himself awake and think of that, whereas now, now was about acceptance and moving on, because maybe this was necessary, because maybe Mikey Way wasn't always right.

'I know. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that.' And that was probably the first time Bert McCracken had put a genuine, sober smile on Gerard Way's face, and he wasn't even there in person to do it, although that was probably helping matters, truth be told.

'Thank you.' And with that, Gerard put his cellphone down, locking it and placing it back on his bedside table, because that was that, and he reckoned he was okay now, really okay, because that was that, and it would always just be that; Bert was a matter of the past, and Gerard needed to start living in the present, because recently, it hadn't felt like he was living at all.

Frank mattered a lot, Frank mattered so much, and the boy was slowly becoming the center of Gerard’s universe, and the nineteen year old had very few complaints in regards to that, because Frank Iero was fucking amazing and fucking beautiful, and just as fucking in love with him as he was. They worked, and that was that, and he just hoped that three years down the line, Frank wouldn't be apologising in the same way Bert had, he doubted such a situation possible even in his dreams, though, Frank was a good guy, and even Mikey thought so, and Gerard reckoned that it was Mikey's true mission in life to despise everyone Gerard fell in love with.

Gerard wasn't entirely sure what love felt like though, but Frank had this awful habit of being the first thing he thought of when he woke up, and the last thing on his mind when he went to sleep, and Gerard wasn't quite sure what to make of that at all.

-

Frank had this awfully habit of disregarding his boyfriend's personal space, or remembering what Mikey Way did and most certainly didn't want to see Frank doing to his older brother, and it was with that habit that Frank found himself sat between Gerard's legs and leaning back into his chest, Gerard even kissing the back of his neck on occasion, as Mikey wondered just how long he could take it before being horrifically sick everywhere.

"You two need to fucking learn about personal space." Mikey groaned, just trying to sit at the other side of the living room and watch some bullshit on TV, and have a nice time, without having to witness whatever the fuck his brother and his best friend were doing.

"I'm not the one still in school, Mikey." Gerard piped up, shooting his brother an 'I hate you' glance from across the room.

"That doesn't fucking mean anything." Mikey let out a sigh, "I'm fucking going." He announced, getting to his feet, and glaring at the both of them.

"To go and ignore Pete's personal space?" Frank asked, smirking a little, and Mikey was seriously reconsidering his friendship with that asshole.

"Something like that." He mumbled, letting out a sigh, before slamming the door behind him.

"He's being a total hypocrite." Gerard giggled a little, leaning back into the sofa, and leaving Frank to move so he was leaning into his side instead. "You do seem to act like we're magnetically attached, though, just say-"

"It's not like you don't love it though, come on, you can't get your hands off me, can you?" Frank smirked, getting up and meeting Gerard with a more than suggestive gaze.

"I haven't left you, I can still hear you!" Mikey yelled out from the next room, leaving the two in a fit of laughter.

"It's not like you don't love it though." Gerard mimicked Frank's earlier words, still laughing his fucking head off as he did so.

"You're fucking gross!" Mikey yelled out, slamming the front door behind him, and beginning his angsty homosexual walk to Pete Wentz's house for some intense asexual cuddling, or well, perhaps a little more than that.

"He's jealous because you're so hot." Gerard continued, pulling Frank down into his lap, "so fucking hot," he continued, pressing his lips against Frank's, "you should be illegal, I swear to God-"

"Well, I am technically a minor, therefore sex with me is technically illegal. Therefore, I am illegal. technically. Not that it makes much sense, considering the fact that you're like two years older than me, but whatever." Frank totally killed the mood there, leaving Gerard laughing at him like a fucking idiot, but neither of them really cared, because for the first time in Gerard's life since Bert, this was more than sex, this was everything becoming okay again.

"So you're saying we shouldn't fuck? Because I was thinking about that right now, you know, with an empty house, and you looking at me like that, but-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Frank gasped, kissing Gerard just a little violently, and making a mess out of it for real, "are you serious, for real?"

"Why would I be joking about fucking you, Frankie?" Gerard let out a laugh, "I'm not fucking stupid."

"You're not fucking me either." Frank narrowed his eyes, "I want to fuck you."

"We'll see about that." Gerard laughed once more, "come on, get your lips off mine for about five seconds and we can go upstairs, unless you want to have sex on a sofa- actually, Mikey is going to sit here at some point and the face he would make when I tell him what the stains are-"

"Gerard." Frank let out a sigh of disbelief, "stop being such an ass to Mikey," He got up, gesturing for Gerard to follow him, "come on, let's go upstairs."

"You wanna know how many people I've fucked in that bed?" Gerard asked, in the most Gerard like manner ever as they made their way upstairs.

"Gerard, talking about your exes when we're about to have sex-"

"Me and Lindsey fucked in that bed, you know? God, don't you think Lindsey's hot? Think you're hotter, though. How would you feel about a threesome-"

"Gerard!" Frank exclaimed, closing the door behind them, and just pushing Gerard down onto the bed, "shut the fuck up," he let out a sigh, pressing his lips against his boyfriend's.

"Shut me the fuck up." Gerard let out a giggle, looking up at Frank with a grin, "imagine a threesome, though, Frankie, like me fucking you, and Lindsey fucking herself on your dick-"

"Gerard, you know, Lindsey's dating Jamia now?" Frank looked at his boyfriend in a state of perpetual disbelief.

"Oh, she can join in too if she wants. I've never had a foursome, before though-"

"Gerard, I think I'm going to have to shove my cock down your throat to shut you the fuck up." Frank admitted, unzipping his jeans.

"I think we'd have to be naked first, come on, Frankie, give me a show." He giggled a little, leaning back against the bed, before pulling his own shirt and jeans off. "So fucking hot, you know?"

"It's like you never shut up about it, you know?" Frank pulled his shirt off as he spoke.

"Mmm, yeah, you don't want me to ever shut up, though, do you?" He giggled, sitting up and leaning forward, "you want me to tell you how hot you are forever, don't you? You totally get off on it, come on, look at you, all flushed," Gerard smirked, "really wanna suck your cock, really want you to choke me on it-"

"You need to stop." Frank pushed Gerard back down onto the bed, "you're such a fucking slut."

"Yeah, that's right." Gerard smirked, pulling his boxers off, and grabbing his cock. "I'm a fucking slut."

And it was in that moment, that Frank found himself dying, as he stared at Gerard Way's cock, but at the very least he could die happy, as he finally found himself to be a member of the elite club of people who've seen Gerard Way naked.

But speaking of members... Frank really needed to get his cock inside Gerard, like now, and for the first time, it wasn't like there was anything stopping him.

-

END


End file.
